My Dear Camilla
by Opague
Summary: She moved to LA to pursue her dream of being a screenwriter. She has a run-in with an A list actor in a café and they are swept up in tabloid rumors. She overhears a conversation she shouldn't have and is forced into the middle of Hollywood's biggest break-ups. In the midst of fame and rabid fans, are there space for budding romances, or is reality just not romantic comedies?
1. Chapter 1 - CP

_**WELCOME READERS!**_

_**Author's Note: To those who are returning readers of Opague: this is not written by her but by someone who received permission to write and post on her account. Her previous work will be hers alone and remain untouched, even if they are unfinished. For more information or if you have any questions, read the profile and then message me. Any future notes will be given by the author of this story as well. If you are new to this account, welcome!**_

**Disclaimer:** Twilight characters and plots don't belong to me. This is a fanfiction written for entertainment purposes. No claims made on Stephenie Meyer's works.

**Chapter 1**

I couldn't tell which one was thwarting my vision more, the heat waves or the masses of sweat. I've gone through the three towels that I brought from home and if I sweat anymore I'll have to start using my T-shirts – yay for laundry. The only thing that's keeping me alive at this point is the the air rushing in from the windows against my face. Natural air conditioning was acceptable, but it was nothing compared to the cooling sensations of an actual air conditioner - a luxury that I used to have before this piece-a-shit air conditioner broke. The down side of natural air conditioning, however, was the constant whipping of hair in my face. It was like pulling a fish out of water and placing it to your face so you can watch it flail and throw itself against your skin.

Looking toward the rear-view mirror using one hand to straighten my hair back into a bun, I held my hair clip on my mouth. As I finished, my novelty glasses fought to surf off the sweaty bridge on my nose, reflexively I dash to readjust the frame. I was practically doing everything with one hand, which by the way is a skill that I've acquired over the duration of my Thirty-six hour drive from my home town Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to Los Angeles, California. As I angled my face to check the entirety of my hair, the mountain of water bottles collecting in the backseat of my car were visibly undeniable. Considering that I've only had four pee breaks during the trip, I was holding my ground excellently.

I placed my sweaty hands back on the steering wheel after I adjusted the map in order to pinpoint my location. I seemed to be somewhere on North Bronson Avenue approaching Franklin Avenue which was the street Bella apparently told me to right turn on because it would be, and I quote, "a absolutely fabulous short-cut". Too bad the fabulous shortcut didn't match my fabulous mood in this fabulous California heat. Despite the moist premise of my skin, my lips were dreadfully dry and my attempts to 'lick them' only did the opposite and push them to their limits of dehydration. Exhaustively reaching in the back expecting another lukewarm water bottle to be present among the plethora of empty plastic carcasses, my hand only acquire disappointment. All of the water bottles were completely empty, all Twenty-four Ozarka water bottles that I brought with me.

I sighed in dissatisfaction, returning my hand to the steering wheel as I thought out loud to myself "Fuck."

I wasn't the luckiest person in the world, but in a situation like this, I can't help but conceive that god is somehow plotting against my existence despite the fact that it was my fault. I currently have three option left, either find a cafe that can whip up the most amazing iced coffee with a functioning air conditioning system, try to last another possible hour in this heat as I struggle to find Bella's condo, or I could pull over and sob in a fetal position and collect my tears into a bottle for hydrating purposes.

I think I'll look at it from a logical perspective and take the first option to scavenge for a nearby cafe.

Sobbing in a fetal position isn't really my style.

As a red light appeared, I examine my surroundings hoping I that the divine being that resides above me is somehow on my side. I leaned forward and squinted to make out a group of letters in the distance. It was on a sign of a store with large array of wine in it, but I was almost positive that the sign was pronounced something like:

"Oh-Oaks...gourmet...Ca-Cafe?... OH MY GOSH! A CAFE!" I exclaimed with utter enthusiasm. I began bouncing repeatedly in my car as a smile ran across my face. To me, seeing quality cafe after a days of driving in this heat was like seeing a sanctuary of hydration. Although I had four stops on the way to California, none of the stops served an exquisite Iced coffee. I set my hopes high, since I was now in the land of dreams and stardom, that I might actually find some delightful coffee.

I pulled my car over to park in the parking lot as the light flashed green. I reached over and turned my key to allow the engine some temporary rest for it's excruciating labor over the course of this trip. The passenger seat next to me was a mess of maps, towels, liquids, and technological devices. The convoluted pile made it unreasonably difficult to identify the location of my clutch among the sea of necessities.

"Ah-Ha!" I remarked as I uncovered the long lost treasure of Camilla.

Before leaving the car, I gave a clutch a quick kiss for it's existence.

Still covered in a layers of my pore's wet secretion, I straightened my white tank top, pulled down my jean shorts, and aligned my glasses. I strutted like I was ready for the best coffee of my life.

The shop had this native Italian aura to it. Wine hung gracefully by the decoratively wood piece that intersected in perpendicular patterns behind the counter as food laid across the wooden counter top and a luscious display of sweets and snacks begged the customers for consumption. As I entered the palace I was instantly welcomed by a breeze of air conditioning! A breeze of MOTHER-FUCKING air conditioning! The joy I felt was instinctive since this wasn't some wind blowing against my face that was messing up hair, this was the real deal. My body was finally at ease; the only thing left to fulfill is the taste of emptiness on my taste buds.

I approached the front counter.

"Hey can I get a Mocha frappe and two bagel sandwiches?" I requested.

The counter lady looked up and gave me a lift of an eyebrow and replied " Looks like someone worked up a sweat this mornin', I bet you're hungry ain't cha?" as she continued to type in the order.

"Starving." I kindly remarked although starving was not an appropriate definition for the state my stomach was agonizing from.

"For here or to go?" She inquired.

"To go please." I smiled as opened my clutch to retrieve my debit card. I notice that there were still obvious smudges and drops of sweat on my glasses. I brushed it off deciding that it was acceptable until I got to a table to sit myself down to wipe it off.

But as I looked at the price my jaw reflexively dropped in disbelief; It was almost twenty-four dollars for three items. I was unaware of how big the jumps were in living expenses from Pennsylvania to California. In Pittsburgh, this would cost about eighteen dollars – Tops. It was too late now to change my order now, so I grudgingly swiped my card and signed for my signature.

"Can I get your initials?" She asked totally oblivious to the expression on my face.

"CP for Camilla Pernard" I answered using my middle name instead of my last, Song, since most people including my parents prefer to use my middle name. I put the debit card back into my clutch and led myself in the direction of closest available seat.

This is outrageous. So far my first impression of California was not pleasant. The heat was unbearable and the costs of living were just outright robbery.

"This day could not get any worse." Whispering under my breath as I walked over to take a seat. The seat was thankfully cold as my buns had grown uncomfortably accustomed to warm, sweaty, leather seats. I repositioned myself to fall gracefully into the soft framework of the cold chair.

Suddenly as I slowly removed my glasses to clean the smudges that had collected on my lenses, I heard a squeal; almost the same ecstatic squeal I produced when I found this coffee shop. I jumped at the sound dropping my glasses in the process. It was extremely unexpected for commotion to occur in a remotely quiet coffee shop unless a celebrity walked in.

"Oh my god! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! I-I-Its C-Cr-Chr-Chris Plum! Oh my gosh! Can I have your autograph?!"

Yup, a celebrity walked in.

As she announced, her heaving, hopping, and hyperventilating continued. It took me a moment to register that this was could possibly be my first encounter with a celebrity. Even though I didn't know who this "Chris Plum" was, I was still determined to get their signature.

I scrambled to pick up my glasses off the floor. This is it! it's an actual celebrity. Those rare species of super good looking individuals you only get to see in films, but today is my chance to get to see one in 3D! These are the people who redefine the definition of a star based on talent – well most of them. But still, these are the individuals that reform Hollywood with each passing generation. I dash toward my key to visibility and quickly threw them on my face.

Was it an actor or actress or a director?

What did they look like?

Were they nice?

What were they wearing?

Why were they here out of all of the possible cafes in Los Angeles?

So many question spun fantastically into my head as I looked up expecting Prince charming, but got Queen Elizabeth instead. I was confused; I could've sworn she said "Chris Plum" but It was a Caucasian woman who appeared to be in her late 40s and just a couple inches under six feet. She was neither elegant nor tall, she wore a pink tank top with black athletic pants that had a streak of pink running along the side from top to bottom toward her tennis shoes. She looked extraordinary ordinary for someone of her stature to produce such a reaction from her fans that were still freaking out behind the counter.

I guess that after awhile, an actress' looks diminish with age. It was fine since it happened to everyone at one point and aging is practically inevitable. The woman stood there completely unwavering by the circular tribal rain-dances her fans were doing. Still, it was my chance to the get an autograph from the first celebrity I met with in California and I wasn't going to waste it. I walked over slowly hoping to not intrude on anything and display myself kindly as possible.

"Excuse me, you wouldn't happen to have a pen and paper would you?" I asked politely to the girls who were supposed to be working the counters but instead were jumping furiously. They stopped twirling enough to realize that they were still on their job and not a fantasy film with their favorite celebrity.

As they searched for the items, the Barista called out the order "I got two bagel sandwiches and a Mocha Frappe for a CP!" Despite my hunger, I was determined to complete my mission before I got my food.

"Uh Yeah, sorry for the commotion. Here ya go." She responded trying to seem dignified as she handed me the pen.

"Thank you." Gladly grabbing the items I requested and handed them to the older woman in front of me. The counter girls quickly rush back to work on the beverages south of the cash register leaving me to my business.

I watch the woman jump backwards as she saw the paper and pen. It took her a couple seconds to register that I was handing her. At a closer distance she was prettier than I predicted, but moderately confused. Although she was probably just new to the autograph signing business, she still took the items. She looked at the items in her hands as if it was foreign to her native country and returned her gaze back at me.

"Um, what do you want me to with this?" She asked with a tone of genuine confusion.

I smiled a bit from the irony of the situation before I answered.

"Can I have your autograph?" I asked her to make sure there were no more misunderstandings.

"Uhm...sure..." She confirmed oddly.

It was weird. I guessed this didn't happen very often for her. She most likely went to this coffee shop because she assumed that she would get less attention here. Unfortunately, it looks like I just blew her cover but she didn't seem to mind it that much. When she finished signing, I placed the pen back on the table and returned it to the cashier.

"Thanks for letting me use your pen."

"No problem, Oh I see you got Mr. Plum's signature." She replied as she put the pen back into the desk not even looking at the signed slip of paper in my hand.

"Yeah I di- wait, what?" I stopped myself in the middle of my sentence. Mister? Did the cashier just say Mister? I'm not sure of the heat exhaustion is getting to my hearing first or if it's water deprivation but I could've sworn I heard it incorrectly.

Was my vision was lying to me or were the counter girls making obnoxiously false claims of excitement back there?

"Yeah, Chris Plum's a guy..." The cashier confirmed as she caught a glimpse of the paper in my palm.

"Um...that's not his signature, this is his signature." She continued as she held up slip of paper to compare to mine. They were two completely different names created by two completely different hand writings.

I looked back at the woman who just gave me her signature and returned the most confused glare.

"So...you're not Chris Plum?"

She silently shook her head in verification. Now I understand why she was so genuinely confused when I requested an autograph from her. I looked back at the piece of paper in my hand to examine the name.

"...Barbra Anthony?" I read quietly befuddled as the bridge between my eyebrows wrinkled in disbelief.

I felt so embarrassed. Both the counter girls were snickering at my humiliation as the lady progressed with her day as if this misconception didn't occur. This middle aged woman is just a normal citizen looking to get some morning coffee and breakfast and here I was interrupting her day with my nonsense. I looked at the paper in my hand one more time before I apologized.

"I'm sorry ma'am, I thought you were Chris Plum." Excusing myself as I made eye contact with the ground. It was better to judged by the very floor I walked on then to be judged by the people who occupied this cafe. What a great first impression on the people of California.

I threw the slip of paper into the trash shamefully as I made my way toward my food on the other side of the room.

"Ugh, what an idiot..." I said in a self-deprecating manner. At this point, I just wanted to get my food and get out. I felt tremendously uncomfortable after that act of crystal clear stupidity. First the childish celebratory squeals in the car and now this. If I had just waited a couple seconds before I'd taken my glasses off to clean them I probably would've seen where this "Chris Plum" guy went and this entire fiasco could've been evaded. At least now when I get to Bella's place, I'll have a great story to tell her over a cup of coffee – preferably not this place. Once I settle down in LA, I'll know which cafe to avoid for a while until the counter girls forget who I am or they stop working here.

As I made my way to the pick up lanes, there was a profusion of brown paper bags awaiting me. I carefully examine the front of each bags to look for a bag with initials "CP" but this expedition came to no avail. My bag is absent among the collection of foods as my hands began to search faster and faster.

"Are you kidding me?" I sarcastically asked in frustration. How ironic that just a couple of minutes ago, I told myself that "this day could not get any worse".

I continued to search the front of the brown bags one by one.

"LD...NR...CS...CF..." Reading the initials out loud to myself, the bags that were unchecked began to diminish in quantity. As I finished the examination I scavenged the pile one more time, but it was useless. This I knew for sure was no a hallucination induced by the symptoms of the exposure to the Californian heat.

Someone just took my fucking shit.

Honestly, after driving thirty-six hours, and paying twenty four dollars for food I haven't tried and even made a mockery of myself in front of the public eye. I was up to the roof with my tolerance of 'Bullshit' for the day. How could someone even mix up their order with another when they're all labeled? The system was practically fool proof. Who would just grabs a bag without check the initials? The direction of my luck was absolutely ridiculous. I researched the bags one more time before I looked up to ask the Barista.

"Excuse me sir! Did anyone recently come here to take their order?" I questioned.

He turned in the midst of perfecting this craft and pointed toward a general location behind the line.

"Yeah, that guy over there." He answered nonchalantly.

"Thanks."

I turned and scanned the area behind as I began walking. I wasn't thoroughly positive if this person I'm pursuing was the culprit, but I am convinced that the Barista shouted out my order with the initials "CP". There was no way I missed my order, and based on my mediocre deductive reasoning abilities the culprit must have either left with my order already or is about to leave through those doors. I tracked the individual by spotting a figure with a gray hoodie on and a brown item in his hand. I started to dash toward the line of people waiting to place their order while maneuvering around the clusters of loitering customers. This person was fast, making sure that he went unnoticed as he dug his way toward the exit with what may or may not possibly be my food. As I pushed my way through the line, the rest of the path became less congest to the extent that visibility was restored. My eyes raced across the room until I spotted the suspect. He was definitely a tall male in a light gray hoodie with dark gray sweat pants and with something in his hands - a brown paper bag with the initials "CP".

Gotcha.

**Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please continue reading and support the novel with a review, favorite, or a follow.**


	2. Chapter 2 - So that was Chris Plum

**Author's Note: If you haven't read the the note on the first chapter, here is a reminder. This is not the original author of this account and this literary piece was not written by her, but by an alternative author, Opague 2. It's incumbent of me to inform the readers that she is still active and still receives your messages and that unfortunately this main characters of this story are not Edward and Bella, however, they will be included. Also, I will be taking creative liberty by changing the initial nature of Bella to my preference for the sake of the story.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight trilogy in anyway. The rights solely belongs to Stephenie Meyer.**

Chapter 2

"Sir! Excuse me sir!" I barked, hoping to acquire the attention of this hooded figure.

It was futile; he continued his trip ignorant to me as he exited the door. I followed him until there was only a few feet between our bodies as I tried to alert him one last time.

"Sir with the gray hoodie!"

He finally stopped.

My breath was a little bit shaken and I was now back in the same boiling environment I just escaped from. I stormed up to him with the pent up frustration beget by the events that have occurred today.

I was now face to face with his back. As he began to angle his body to confront me, he removed his hood.

I took a deep breath and spoke.

"You took my breakfast you assho-" I stopped myself prior to the conclusion of my sentence.

What's happening?

This was uncharacteristic of me. Usually, I'd be able to maintain my composure when I was addressing someone whether or not it was in a vulgar demeanor, but I suddenly found it difficult to produce any words. My mouth hung open and my eyes remained in the same position as they met with his eyes instead of the back of his head. His short brown hair laid in a messy manner, but what was so profound about his complexion were his defined eyebrows that compliment the clarity of his blue eyes. I was paralyzed as he stood just a few inches higher than me and a foot away from my face.

I cleared my throat and attempted to complete my message.

"Um, that brown paper bag is my breakfast" I stated.

He held up the brown paper bag just a few inches from his face and examined the initials "CP" and bewilderingly returned his gaze back at me.

"Are you sure? Because it has my initials on it" He inquisitively responded flipping the brown paper bag in my direction so I can observe the front.

"What's your name then?" I asked pushing the bag away from my face.

"Chris Plum"

I was paralyzed for the second time.

As he said those words, I fought ferociously to hide my emotions with silence. Externally, I was in a state of moderate shock. Internally, my insides were on a permanent vacation as I felt a limping sensation in my bones. I understood why he was the sole reason for why those girls behaved so inappropriately, however, I would not have a repeat of what happened in the cafe.

Unfortunately, It seemed like he wasn't going to give up the bag so easily. He made his argument based on what he knew, now it was my turn.

"Well, Mr. Plum my name is Camilla Pernard, but my full name is Camilla Pernard Song." I said reaching into my clutch and funneling my fingers into a secret compartment at the back of the clutch to pull out my only piece of evidence – my license. I showed it to him triumphantly and continued with my rebuttal.

"See? It says right here on my license Camilla Pernard Song. When I ordered, I told the cashier to use my first and middle name as the initials instead of my last name. So the CP, on your bag, actually stands for Camilla Pernard."

I finished my statement still slightly insecure from the scrutiny of his drop dead eyes. He may be gorgeous, but he was not worth giving up twenty four dollars.

"Well I must admit, you make a pretty convincing case, but that doesn't refute the fact that both of our initials are CP." He countered.

Touche.

There was a paused as he acquired his thoughts.

"How about this, if you can tell me what's in the bag, I'll give it to you and be on my way."

The proposition seemed logical but tedious. Unable to understand why someone of his occupation would be so wasteful with time, I chose not to question it since I was in the presence of such a dashing man. However, If I was going to play this little game, I had to ensure that the playing field was even.

"How do I know you haven't cheated already?" I investigated, tilting my brow.

"Look for yourself"

He held up the bag once more and showed me that the staple securing the items inside was firmly located on the top fold. Looking closer, there were no marks indicating a rip in the bag so it was safe to say that game was now beginning.

"Okay, I know there's a Mocha Frappe inside aaaannnd..." I replied extending the last word. There was a lapse in my train of thoughts as my memory began to fail me. My eyes darted back and forth as I rolled my tongue in my mouth. The only thing I could recall at the moment was the trip here, my humiliating confrontation, and his god damn eyes. No matter how hard I concentrated or looked at the floor, all I could visualize was his amnesia inducing eyes.

I was so embarrassed. Just a moment a ago I had placed in order for a my food and only a couple minutes later, the contents of that bag completely escaped my mind.

"And?" He interrupted.

"Wait, I'm thinking!" I snapped.

My mind lacked the ability to focus properly with his presence right in front of me. Suddenly I reach an epiphany. I dove into all the possible pockets on my jean shorts with anticipation that I might find the whereabouts of my receipt.

"Come on, Come on, where is it?" I mumbled under my breath as I shifted my hands across my shorts.

I couldn't find where I had last placed my receipt. All the items that occupied my pockets were my change and my chap stick. I opened my clutch to check through all of the compartments as Mr. Plum stared at my fumbling movements and chuckled.

"If it wasn't in my pockets then I must have left it..."

There was a slow pause of realization.

"...on the table. I left it on the table. Dammit Camilla." I cursed the last segment under my breath as I sighed in defeat and looked back up at Mr. Plum who was now smirking at my disorganization.

"You're enjoying this aren't you?"

"Just a little bit" He answered, as his smirk formed into a smile.

"Look Mr. Plum, I know you don't believe me but-"

"Call me Chris." He intervened, cutting me off.

This day was not going well at all. He probably thinks I'm some crazed fan trying to steal his breakfast judging by his silence, his laughter, and his lack of words. I couldn't just turn around and walk back into the cafe to look for my receipt because he'd just walk off even if I asked him to stay. Since he's a celebrity, his schedule must be exceedingly occupied with much better things to attend then this. I took at deep breath and prepared my final statement.

"Well, Chris, I know you don't believe me but that's really my breakfast and I paid twenty four dollars for it. I don't have a receipt to show you because I forgot it on the table and I know this looks like I'm trying to steal your breakfast, but I'm really not. You're probably a very busy person and based on-"

I was interrupted again. Not by a phrase or a comment, but by a gesture. He handed me the brown paper bag. Why though? I stopped to observe it with astonishment before I looked back up at him. He had a warmhearted smile with the same mesmerizing sapphires shining in my direction. I'm speechless. What else could I feel but a stunning gratitude for this act of kindness as I failed to remove my eyes from him.

"Well are you going to stare? or are you going to take the bag." He asked breaking my trance.

"Uh, yea. The bag. I forgot. Thank you so much." I responded as I shook off the stardust from the impact of his eyes and reach to grab the bag. He smiled again at me as I grabbed the bag; I couldn't help but mirror his reaction in return.

"No problem" He ended before he turn and started walking off. He left me there in a daze from his charisma. His charismatic nature was radiating from him as he put his hands into his pockets, lifted his hood back on his head and headed toward his car.

"What about your breakfast? It's still in the cafe! Won't you get hungry?" I called out to him at the other side of the parking lot.

"Nah, I'm good! I'll just find something to eat later!" He yelled back as he disappeared into the lines of cars.

I felt a overwhelming surge of energy and relief because for some reason I could not remove that smile off my face. After all that's happened today, this was one of the best experiences I've had in Los Angeles so far. I lifted the brown paper bag with my initials on them to my face as I ripped open the top exposing the smell inside. I gave an enormous inhale as I checked to see if all the items where there. I laughed at myself when I saw the other two bagel sandwiches I had ordered and completely forgot about because of him. Closing the bag, I walked back to my car and thought verbally to myself:

"So that was Chris Plum."

**Author's Note: Please feel free to leave me a review.**


	3. Chapter 3 - VP of Sugar Plums

**Author's Note: If you've made it this far into the story, I want to thank you. Also, I need an editor for the story so if you are someone who is knowledgeable on this kind of stuff, please feel free to drop a review and tell me you're interested. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own Twilight.**

Chapter 3

Although, it took me an hour before I could discover the location of Bella's place, it took me another hour to get all my luggage up to her floor. The steps were the most gruesome part with their torturous angular design. Every journey up felt like another monstrous mountain since I had to venture up and down these corridors three times to get everything assembled. When the final trip was complete, I collapsed on the floor in front of her door panting in exhaustion. As I reached to unlock my phone, I could see my disgraceful appearance in the reflection.

"You look like a hobo" I kindly remarked.

There was a message from Bella.

**Won't be back until 12:30. I've got an audition. Feel free to let yourself in, I left the key under the mat. - Bella**

I looked at the time at the corner of my phone before checking under the warm welcome mat lying directly under my butt.

"12:27...So she should be back soon" I narrated, lifting the sides of the welcome mat because I was unwilling to get up. I blindly searched around until I felt a small but hard metallic item and pulled it out from under me. I grunted sorely as I removed my body off the floor and noticed that the "22C" on the white wooden door was rusting considerably. I inserted the key and let myself in allowing a rush of cold wind to hug me as I left the door open to carry my baggage into her condo. The lights were off and the blinds were closed conveying no hint of the interior of her home.

Naturally being a hard worker, I carried two suitcases at a time since it would be tedious to carry one in at a time. A mistake I once made just an hour ago when decided making three trips up this treacherous building was 'fine'. I aimed for the heaviest ones first, hoping to get them through the door without falling on my ass. The dragging abused the carpet floors leaving trails all over the place. I went back to get the other components of my wardrobe and settled them inside. After collecting my six suitcases into a corner of the entrance, it was certain that there was no visible light coming from anywhere. Within a few minutes my eyes had acclimated enough to the darkness to feel my way around and navigate. I avoided large items here and there since the black surroundings gave her furniture no determinate shape. Circumnavigating the walls with my hands, I searched for the light switch but only came into contact with the wall paper.

"Wall paper?" I laughed. "I always thought Bella was a painted-wall kinda girl." I said breaking the eerily quiet tension collecting in my spine. I was never a fan of the dark, but I could tolerate it to a certain extent. I always had this grand notion that if I was present in the dark long enough that one day, when I would attempt to get on my bed, a arcane hand would reach out from under my bed and pull me into the depths of the unknown where I would never resurface again. The concept was terrifying and fear inducing since I was a paranoiac. It made it even more difficult to go to the restroom at three in the morning.

Within a couple of minutes, the absence of light became unbearably petrifying, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. I unlocked it as it transitioned from the dim lock screen to the home screen which ignited the proximity. Visibility was restored to the point that I could see a feet or two in front of me.

"That's much better" I gladly expressed as I turned the phone in the opposite direction to guide me.

My face was razor close to the wall as I dragged my eyes along the path until I saw something.

I paused and squinted to examine a pair of familiar eyes staring back at me.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" I roared in a state of utter stupor.

In the process of retracting my body, I fell backwards onto the carpet. Despite the soft consistency of the carpet, my fall wasn't cushioned enough to save my butt from the impact. The pain only temporarily distracted me from the fact that my face just met with the same seductive blue eyes I saw only a few hours ago. My heart was racing as terror pumped through my veins. I stayed completely silent as I restricted my breathing to rival that of a ninja. Looking for my phone, my hand roamed around this massive sea of wool. In my brain, I was aware that it was probably my dormant paranoia causing an over reactive response, but my eyes were told me something different.

There was something there in the darkness.

The dark deafening silence was giving me shivers as goosebumps inflamed my skin. My fingers continued to crawl against the nappy floor covering until I touched my phone. Immediately, I had an impulse to direct the light toward the initial area that those eyes emerged from. I moved without hesitation as I crawled closer and closer to inspect what people would primitively run away from in horror movies.

Just as I was about to reach the wall and meet those ominous eyes, I heard a clap.

Rays of light instantly illuminated the room with white brilliance.

"Hey smart ass, you forgot to close the door!" A familiar voice insulted from the entrance.

Before I could verbally retaliate, I was caught off guard by a life sized cut out of Chris Plum. My eyes widen to their maximum capacity to absorb in the disturbing discovery. There was a endless array of posters lining the exterior of the white walls with each one plastered with the same chiseled face – Chris Plum. I remained on the floor in a crawling positioned as I examined the corner Bella had decorated with posters. Then I came to the realization that I wasn't touching wall paper, but instead I was violating the surfaces of the posters; Bella's walls had been painted all along.

"Nice to see you too Camilla, my name's Bella" She said sarcastically as she emerged from the corner to examine my silence.

"Holy crap! You look like a freaking hobo!" She exclaimed examining my poor complexion after being deprived of a shower for three days.

I didn't mind the insult due to the fact that I was in still in a state of surprise. My eyes fell victim to the same paralysis I encountered earlier except this time it was accompanied by an uneasy feeling. Even though Chris Plum is breath taking man, to know that I would be greeted by several pairs of his eyes that littered the walls every time I walked into the living room was highly uncomfortable. The most uncomfortable aspect of this was that my friend Bella had organized this entire shrine dedicated to Chris.

"What is this?" Asking her a question I already knew the answer too.

"Oh this? It's just my collection. I'm the Vice President of Chris Plum's fan club, the Sugar Plums." She introduce her title proudly.

My mouth remained open as I turned my head toward her in unsuspected amazement. I was bewildered to the fact that out of all the people in the world, my best friend, Bella, is the Vice President of Chris' fan club. This is ridiculous how someone could have such a powerful attraction to another human being that they became a form of religion. I was gazed back at a shrine with a six foot, two inch life sized cut out of Chris at the center. Every single inch of this screamed unsettling the more and more I observed it. For all the high school years I've known Bella, I've always known her as a die-hard fan for the usual boy bands like N-Sync, The Backstreet Boys, and New Kids on the Block. Even after all these years she still hasn't changed from her high school self despite the fact that she now worships actors instead of a collection of prepubescent boys.

I turned back toward the movie posters of Chris before proceeding with my question.

"And how long have you been Vice President of his...um...fan club?" I unwillingly asked finding it difficult to say those last words.

There was a paused as Bella began tapping her chin with her index finger while staring at the roof. As Bella roamed the retrospects of her past, I regretted asking her about her title already.

"Well I guess around the time his fan site went up, which is about six years ago."

"You've been stalking him for six years?!" I questioned in disbelief.

"I wouldn't really call it stalking, it's more like being really dedicated" She corrected.

"So basically you're obsessed then?"

"Hey! Dedication and obsession are two completely different things." She jokingly defended.

I glared at her with a judgmental expression.

"Sure whatever you say Bella" I replied forfeiting the match as I got up off the carpet floor.

As I stood up, my visual comprehension of the room began to sink in. Spontaneously, I was no longer fixated on Chris anymore, but something of larger significance – Bella's condo. Bella laced her entire condo in brilliant manner of black, white and strategic spots of red here and there. There were tall red lamp posts at the corners of the room with large red vases accompanying them. On the opposite side of the entrance was a giant glass window that were triggered when the lights turned on. Outside of the window was a terrace that gave you a fabulous sample of the California experience. Despite the white walls, the carpet was a ebony black with white fur couches and red velvet pillows. As I looked up I noticed something more spectacular – a crystal chandelier. It was as if I had walked into William and Kate's modern summer home and I never wanted to leave.

"Oh my god Bella. Your condo is just..."

"I know, it wasn't cheap either. Trust me." She said disconnecting my sentence. I guess she read my thoughts from my facial expression and by the way I couldn't find an suitable word to describe the beautiful interior design.

"Didn't you see it on your way in?" Bella wondered.

"No, I couldn't find the light switch. Where the hell is that thing anyways?"

Bella laughed momentarily before continuing.

"That's because the lights have a clap on and clap off system, I guess I probably should've texted you before I left to my audition."

"Speaking of your audition, how'd it go?" I asked changing the topic to something more lively.

"Uhh...I think I did well but I'm probably not going to get the part." She answered disparaging herself before she even told me why.

"Why not?" I verbalized my thoughts exactly.

"Because, Rachel McAdams. I lost it as soon as I heard she was auditioning" Bella finished as she put her purse down on the semi-spherical table in the center of the living room.

"Ouch, kinda hard to compete with The Notebook" I sympathized as I joined her on the soft fur couches afar from the creepy cut out of Chris and his stoic expression.

"You said it." She replied.

As the conversation reached a pause, Bella massaged her temples and submerged her body into the welcoming couch. Wrinkles formed in the center of her brows as she sighed in aggravation.

"It's only noon and I'm having a rough day already." She muttered.

Bella paused looking over at the suitcases that congregated at the entrance and spotted my brown paper bag.

"Got anything in that bag for me?"

"Half a bagel sandwich" I replied laughing.

"Sounds great" She said as she mounted her body off the couch. I could see her exhausted expression instantly lighted up as she started walking toward the bag. Whenever Bella forgot to eat breakfast during high school, she would last until second period before she started getting so aggravated that she could barely focus in class. The entire class could always tell when Bella had forgotten to eat her breakfast because her stomach would always rumble and I, being her best friend, always carried sweets with me and gave her a share. As Bella traveled toward the food I heard her stomach make an unforgettable sound. I guess somethings never change.

"Before you stuff your face, could you tell me where the bathroom is and get me a random pair of clothes out of my suitcase as well. I'm in dire need of a shower" I called out to her before she turned the corner.

"Yea, just go down the hall and turn left." She replied distracted by her scavenging. I got up and started following her with a crippling exhaustion. As I went to go collect my clothes I could hear Bella ravage through the napkins and eating utensils in the bag until she acquired her scrumptious goal. Approaching Bella, I saw that she had already unwrapped the bagel sandwich. She flipped the wrapper over to examine the logo and briefly paused.

"Oaks Gourmet Cafe? You went there?" She pried.

"Yes, and thank you for getting my clothes" I affirmed sarcastically as I opened the suitcase and positioned it flat on the floor.

"I heard Chris Plum goes there."

I smiled at how she ironically brought up the topic.

"Well interesting thing happened. That rumor is actually true." I confirmed maintaining my smile.

There was no reply as her hand with the half eaten bagel sandwich ascended toward her mouth. Bella's stomach made her incognizant to my hint as I carried on with my task of choosing an outfit. As I accumulated the pieces of clothing I would change into, I could hear Bella munching down on the sandwich. Before I could get up and head towards the shower, she stopped herself from devouring the last piece of the sandwich. I got up just in time to see Bella go motionless after she turned her upper body toward me. Her hand with the sandwiched slowly descended away from her face as she wore a doubtful expression. The silence continued as her skeptical stare remained on me until she could finally produce any words.

Then it finally hit Bella as her eyes shot open.

"Wait- Are you?- Hold up. You met him!?" She proclaimed in a loud and incoherent manner with food present in her mouth.

"God, you're so obtuse." I remarked rolling my eyes as I made my way toward the shower.

"Wait! wait! Tell me what happened!" She yelled running after me in the process of swallowing the rest of her meal.

"Can we wait until after I take a shower? I'm covered in grime." I protested.

"But I can't wait thirty minutes!" Bella pushed.

"I can't wait thirty minutes either!" I defended as Bella jumped in front of the door.

"It won't even take that long! Come on. We'll just talk for like five minutes then you can go shower." She said exercising her skills of persuasion.

"Knowing you, it's gonna be five minutes talking about how I met him and then twenty-five talking about how much you love him." I refuted squeezing my tall frame through her pitiful attempt of block my passage.

"But the suspense is gonna kill me!" She said as I fully pushed my way through her and into the bathroom.

"I'll just bring you back to life when I get out then." I ended slowly closing the door and watched her pathetic imitation of puppy dog eyes as I smiled in return. Even after the door was closed I could still feel the same obnoxious expression on the other side.

"Ugh you suck Camilla!" She announced as I laid my clothes down on the marble counter.

"Love you too!" I ended while smiling as I released the bun on the back of my head and let my hair flow. Secretly, I wanted to enrapture Bella with tales of my lovely encounter but a shower was more important to me at the moment.

This time there was a light switch as I flicked it on. I dashed to finish unclothing myself as a cold shower awaited me. I was so elated that I could practically jump and scream, but then I'd slip and crack my head open on the tile – not a pretty sight. As I slipped off the last piece of clothing I looked up at the door and was instantly overcome by a chilling sensation. I jumped backward covering my uncovered body.

"Dammit Bella! Why the fuck is there a poster of him in here too?!" I barked furiously.

As I jumped to remove the poster off the door I heard Bella dying from laughter. Even if it was an artificial replica of Chris, the fact that he was staring at me naked was still unsettling. I tugged at the tap until it became separable and threw the poster outside the restroom and went forward with the my shower.

Slamming the door, I digressed back into the bathroom and closed my eyes to consume some oxygen.

"Finally, alone at last."

* * *

I felt so refreshed.

I missed the sensation you get when you sing in the shower to a toothbrush. The best part was dancing while the artificial rainstorm cleansed your skin. As I looked in the mirror, my long brown hair didn't look or feel shamefully dirty and greasy anymore, my face had returned to it's usual pale but slightly tanned skin tone, and my clothes looked so clean and felt so soft instead of the sweaty, dirty, and worn down tank top I had on before. As I wrapped the towel around my hair, I made ugly faces in the mirror while rapidly blinking my green eyes to showcase my excitement.

Once I completed my task, I leaned into the mirror and welcomed back my beautiful face and it's dimples with a light kiss. I walked towards the door and motioned the door knob with a subtle silence. I opened the door quickly expecting Bella to be waiting there, but was only greeted with an empty hall. Bella was electrified before I entered the bathroom, but was now outright silent once I exited the bathroom. If this drastic metamorphosis in personality wasn't deranged, then I don't know what is. I walked out into the hallway and turned the corner slowly expecting her to jump out and scare me but she wasn't there either. It's not like Bella could've left because she would've told me while I was in the shower. Starting to feel disconcerting, I continued down the hallway.

Once I entered the living room, I could see Bella sitting their quietly oblivious to my entrance and continued to gaze in unresponsive shock at her I-pad. I felt uneasy as I approached her couch with each passing step.

"Bella what's wrong?" I asked walking up to her couch.

She looked up at me and closed her mouth as she swallowed so intensely that you could hear it's ingestion. Her eye brows stayed hovering above her widen eyes as she turned her I-pad toward me.

I couldn't make out anything without my glasses so I pulled them from my pocket and placed them on my face. I squinted and came a few feet closer to inspect the reason for her expression.

The title of the article read:

"Chris Plum spotted laughing with a mysterious new love interest."

Directly under the titled was a picture of me and Chris outside Oaks Gourmet Cafe.

_**Author's note: Thank you so much for reading, please leave a review. I read all of them :)**_


	4. Chapter 4 - Welcome to Hollywood

Chapter 4

After I told Bella what happened at the cafe, she handed me her I-pad so I could read the article. She tried to make the situation better by making remarks like:

"At least you don't look like that anymore."

"No one will recognize you from that picture."

"That picture doesn't even look like you."

I know she's trying to make the situation better by denying the similarities, but honestly speaking even though that picture of me is slightly unrecognizable, there still people out there who will eventually dig to discover my identity thus stripping me of any anonymity. But the picture was the least of my problem, the main issue at hand was the article, the gossip, the rumor, the lie that these people want to exploit me as.

I looked at the I-pad again and I didn't know if I was ready to accept the information or even be physically able to grab the I-pad. My hand wanted to move toward the I-pad, but my mind behaved negligently in protest. I was still mentally rendering the shocking contents of the title.

"Chris Plum spotted laughing with a mysterious new love interest"

Me? Chris Plum's love interest? Don't be delusional.

The title tattooed itself to the back of my mind and remained blinking on the very edge of my pupils. No matter how many times I closed my eyes, all I could see was that title. I was now an object of the tabloids, of the paparazzi's, of entertainment. I knew very well what it meant to be a part of 'celebrity gossip' even though I've never experienced anything like it to this degree.

I just stared at the I-pad afraid that if I take it, I'll be accepting more than just the item itself. I'd be accepting the information that was going to violate my privacy from now on, I'd be accepting the fact that all my secrets and mistakes will be exploited and magnified for the sole reason of 'entertainment', I'd be accepting that no matter how hard I tried to build a positive image for the public, something was going to tear it down and denote me as a 'fraud', I'd be accepting those unstated but insinuated terms and conditions every rising celebrity accepts.

The main reason I was afraid is because the motive for me coming to Los Angeles is to pursue my Film career, but with the sudden emergence of these unverified rumors, I'm afraid that the process may be a lot harder and make my chances, a lot slimmer. I wanted to be successful on my own terms. I didn't want people to relate to Chris to make it look like I was manipulating him for the sole advantageous initiative of fame. I didn't want to build my name off of his, I wanted to build my name off of mine no matter how long or how extensive this process may take. I was determined to be self-sufficient without the aide of Chris, a successful actor. I removed my eyes from the I-pad and glanced toward my best friend.

Bella returned a frightened look at me.

Bella knew very well what was coming for me. The undeniable hate mail, the conventional death threats, the traditional harassing phone calls – the entire package. Only after a few hours of me being in LA, I was going to be under siege by a storm of relentless fan girls. However, not all hope was lost. Bella could subside the attacks temporarily since she is Vice President of the Sugar Plums, but the only person who could truly put an end to this is the man in that picture - Chris Plum.

I escaped from the safety of my troubled thoughts long enough to return to the danger of this reality. Sooner or later I had to read that article and find out what happened instead of remaining ignorant as strangers exchange lies behind my back. I mentally prepared myself for the cruelty to come but I was afraid that nothing could actually prepare me for this – my false exploitation.

I grabbed the I-pad and began reading.

"Chris Plum spotted laughing with a mysterious new love interest!

This article was published at 10:22 on 7/11/13

Hello you Sugar Plums, we've got a recent scoop here just for your sweet tooth. Remember Chris Plum? Of course! Who could forget that sexy face and those blue eyes and those amazing eye brows and those lips (The list goes on). Well just a couple of weeks ago, Chris announced that he and model Leanne Swan have been dating for "a very long time"(Psh! It's only been two months. Big deal.) but has there been trouble in their relationship?

Well we've got the scoop.

Just a couple of hours ago, Chris was spotted laughing and buying lunch for a mysterious woman who has yet to be identified (OMG the mystery! It's killing me!). The woman appears to be reaching into her clutch and giving our Chris her phone number on a card (Really? You couldn't wait till dinner? Desperate much?). Our paparazzi sources have told us she's not a celebrity (she doesn't even look like one) but just a girl in her late twenties who has the hots for Chris(get in line).

Now listen girls, if you EVER EVER want to approach a famous celebrity or a really cute guy, make sure you don't look like this girl because she has obviously been neglecting her skin and her fashion sense. Just a quick fashion tip, a dirty tank top, messy hair, and stained jean shorts DO NOT BRING ALL THE BOYS TO THE YARD. Come on Chris, we thought you had standards (you can do wayyyy better than her, how about me? Just kidding).

Stay tune for more issues from Celebrity Dish for the latest scoop. We haven't gotten any confirmation from Chris on this matter, but we'll keep you Sugar plums updated! Xoxo

Who is this girl? Is Chris really cheating? Is this rumor true? What's happening?  
Follow our website, .com, for more of the hottest and newest celebrity scoop ;)"

I knew it.

I wasn't ready.

I told myself I couldn't handle the information and I was right.

When I finished reading, my face was fuming red as rage pushed at the water collecting in my eyes. My hands fiercely clutched the I-pad as my eyes bore a twisted glare of irritation and aggression. My teeth clenched together so tightly that my jaw was receiving the impact. My breathing hastened quickly as foul words pushed at the edge of my throat and fought to escape my mouth. I'm angry at the fact that they twisted the truth, I'm angry at the fact that before they even knew the details of the story they fabricated up their own, I'm angry at the fact that real 'human beings' will believe this bullshit over the truth, I'm angry that no one will never ever get to hear the truth – the real truth.

It was just a normal encounter brought on my a misconception of Chris' part because he got the wrong order, that was it. I'm not some gold-digging tramp looking for a famously rich individual to fund my exotic and costly expenses, I'm not some whore whose looking for the celebrity with the biggest banana in between their legs to put in between mine, I'm not some fan girl who goes on a wild spree of wet dreams about hot celebrities, I'm a just woman who's willing to put in the work to get her dreams.

But then again, tabloids don't really care about the dreams of others. They care about "How much money can I make my diffusing these nude picture of 'insert famous celebrity's name'? Or how much will this celebrity pay to keep my mouth shut about 'insert private scandal'?". These heartless people don't give two shits about anyone's privacy as long as they get their money at the end of the day. These people aren't human, they're parasites that feed off of the money they make by exploiting innocent individuals. To simplify, Hollywood is their source of income.

I placed the I-pad aside and lean back on the couch. Bella took my hand and wrapped it in the warmth of hers. The assistance suppressed the tears before they could start flowing down my face.

"Everything's going to be fine" She sympathized.

Wow.

Bella actually said the most stereotypical line of all time. "Everything is going to be fine". Those are the exact words that are everywhere in every movie in every scene in every line just before the storm arrives, but for some strange reason they never seem to fail a worried soul. No matter how over-used and cliché that phrase maybe, it did it's job. My wrapped fist began to weaken it's grip unmasking moons that had formed on the skin of my palm.

"Look Camilla, I already alerted the Fan site, while you were in the shower, that you're not dating or in love with Chris in anyway. I told them that you only met him that one time because he had your breakfast and you wanted it back. I even went to Chris' twitter account and told him. Now all we can do is hope that Chris is somehow informed of the truth. If everything goes the way I think it's gonna go, it'll be alright. Trust me." She confirmed rubbing the top of my hand.

I remained silent but turned enough toward Bella to show her the smile that I forcefully produced on my face. I had to trust Bella. What else could I do being a powerless individual with no social networking sites to use to my advantage or any influential contacts in Los Angeles. All I could do at this point was wait for Chris to settle this matter and move on with my life no matter what happens or what I get confronted with. I sat there on the couch motionless as silence inhabited our ears.

The silence allowed me time to think, to think about how hard it must to be to maintain a relationship with a famous individual, for example, Chris Plum. To be under the scrutiny of the public eye at all time must drive a normal man to the outer reaches of maddening paranoia. Paranoia about the secrets hidden under the sheets, paranoia about the vulnerability of one's privacy, of one's shameful past, of one's unspoken thoughts and how these secrets that lie under the sheets could be unclothed at any moment.

These are the weapons created by the maker, but could very well be used against the maker as well. To be in Leanne's position, a woman in a relationship with Chris Plum, must be the adversity of a life time.

For Leanne, to love someone enough to become entirely selfless by conveying a true symbol of trust and loyalty to their spouse by allowing others to dissect their life is the absolute meaning of love.

I sat there with my thoughts until my body started returning to normality.

I cooled down, but my heart was still racing as frustration swam through my circulatory system. I needed to get my mind off the issue, I needed a distraction, I needed to relax. I shut my eyes and inhaled some sanity and tried to retain some composure. As I exhaled, the potential headache forming in my brain began to disintegrate.

I glanced back at Bella who was still by my side.

"You know what would cheer me up?" I asked catching her attention.

Bella's looked back up at me and understood immediately. It was a tradition we would always do for each other back in high school whenever one of us would feel depressed. Either I would go to her house or she'd come to mine after school or during the weekends. The following ingredients to this secret remedy included a bucket of ice cream and chocolates, some blankets and pillows, and a group of movies.

Bella jumped off the couch and began collecting the items. She dashed back and forth through the halls with excitement as I became reminiscently nostalgic of our high school years. I decided to get up and help Bella by retrieving the Ice cream and chocolates from the fridge. The kitchen was located close to the entrance making it accessible from the living room. I opened the fridge and examine the wide variety of Chocolates and Ice cream and eagerly smiled. The interior of her fridge was decorated with a vast profusion of chocolate bars and buckets upon buckets of Ice cream.

"Screw it, I'll just get all of it" I said as my hands began sweeping the cold snacks into my chest.

* * *

After a couple of hours, Bella and I have watched two romantic comedies and continued onto our third movie which was about to end very soon. We had laughed so hard that the neighbors probably thought we should've been hospitalized for our insanity.

I was wrapped in a blanket or two with pillows supporting my arms that attached themselves to a bucket of Cookies and Cream ice cream and a large silver spoon. Chocolate wrappers littered and occupied various parts of the table as the light from our cinematic experience flashed brilliant scenes across the dim light room.

As the ending sequence approach with the couple's inevitable sultry filled kiss, I became a little bit uncomfortable as if I was intruding on someone's special moment. Their lips touched with such an unnerving aggression that it seemed like they were being drowned in each others slobber with their tongue's venturing and stabbing in their partner's mouths.

I dropped my spoonful of Ice cream in distaste.

"Not it!" I yelled as the movie faded to black. Bella looked at me with a menacing spite because we were both comfortable in our warm positions and neither of us wanted to detach ourselves from the serenity of our fur layering to change the movie.

"Whatever" Bella complied returning her eyes toward the TV and sluggishly crawling out of the comfort of her own zone to grab another DVD. As she shifted through the unsorted pile, a DVD fell off the table and into my vision.

"How about this one?" I called reaching over quickly to snag the DVD off the floor. As I turned it around I could visibly see the title and was spontaneously overcome by delight. Bella turned in the middle of her expedition as curiosity drew her to the film in my hand.

"Bella look, It's our movie" I held up the DVD to display the front of it her. She was instantly surprised.

"I didn't even know I still had that movie" She responded as I retracted it away from her face to open the modern casing holding one of the most legendary movies of it's era – Love story. The DVD looked like it was practically in mint condition despite it's age. I gave it to Bella and she immediately exchanged the movies and clicked play as she sprang backwards onto the couch. We were both equally excited to see this movie again since it's been exactly a decade since we've done this tradition, the only difference is Bella was more expressive with her emotions than I was about re-watching this film.

As the movie began I quietly laughed about the irony of this tradition.

Bella and I held this ritual to lighten our darken spirit, but I always found it ironic how we always binge on a series of comedic movies but as we approach the end of our binge, we'd always somehow end up viewing sad romantic cinema like "Love story" and bawl our eyes out. Love story was the first romantic movie I've ever seen and ever since then I've become a sucker for sappy love stories. If I had to rate this movie from one to three boxes of tissues, I would say five.

Love story is a 1970 film about two college students from two types of social classes meeting in a chain of unlikely events. This was the first movie that exposed me to the independent, hard-working, quick witted, prejudice kind of woman, Jennifer, who falls in love with the wealthy, prideful, arrogant, distinguished man, Oliver. Eventually, they get married against the wishes of Oliver's family and angers his father which causes them to be financially severed from the family's wealth causing Oliver's economic stability to tremble during his attendance at Harvard Law school.

This is one of the many encounters the lovers will face as one unit over the course of a couple years while they try to build a family. This movie is a testament to all the couples who preserve through the all the trials of life and exemplifies the timelessness and the perpetuation of love when faced with the obstacles that seem almost insurmountable.

At the end, the matched-made lovers are both in the hospital bed together as the life slips from Jennifer's hands and usually by then both me and Bella will have gone through two boxes of tissues, three or four Hersey candy bars, a bucket and a half of ice cream sprinkled with our salted tears, and six to eight hours of the day.

As the movie entered it's first scene, I snuggled into the warmth wrapping my skin until I was fully submerged to my neck. The darkness began reclaimed it's territory as it ran across the walls until there was nothing left but the light emitting from the television.

The pillow behind my head grew overwhelmingly welcoming as my body remained motionless. The weight on my eyes grew heavier and heavier until the burden became unbearable. I was fighting the urge to escape into hibernation since I hadn't seen Bella in forever and sleeping during our tradition would be highly disrespectful to her. My body was activating at one hundred percent operational for hours and hours and hours without a decent physical or mental break.

I could feel the strain of sleep deprivation tie my eyelids shut. My eyelids fluttered with exhaustion as sleep was getting the upper hand until I finally fell into the temptations of slumber. I felt my consciousness slipping away as the last thought I could recall was:

"Bella's gonna be so freaking pissed".

It was dark for the duration of my unconscious journey until I awoke backstage at a premiere.

I momentarily assumed I had returned to reality until I regains glimpses of what I was doing before I fell in this coma. It was obscured but I could still render what was happening. I looked down to see myself in a red mermaid dress with a sweetheart neckline. The dress embedded on my body was borderline suffocating, but was undeniably gorgeous.

As I tried to maneuver my body, it remained unresponsive. It was odd but I felt like I wasn't in my body even though it was. I could see and feel everything and anything that was manipulated by my touch but I had no control over my actions for some unexplained reason. I was a puppet controlled by the actions of this unconscious hallucination of the mind. I felt confusion, but was unable to display my emotions or anything. It was almost has if I was in a vehicle that I bought, but I wasn't the driver.

Suddenly I pulled out a mirror to examine the state of my complexion. I was decorated with a rhinestone necklace and enough make up to swoon the sexiest man alive. My hair was in a bun except this time it was in magnificent condition compared to my bun at the cafe. I looked closer and unveiled that in addition to the rhinestone necklace, my ears wore a pair of glittering rhinestone earrings, but the most significant feature about my face that seem exceptionally unorthodox were my eyes. I didn't have any glasses on, instead, I had contact on which ignited the leaf green gems that attached themselves to my pupils. For the first time, I felt almost unrecognizable to my natural complexion.

I put away the mirror and walked on stage.

The blinding flashes of radiant lights shot my eyes. I turned and observed my surroundings and saw the reporters collect at the front of the stage. I was being plundered by a plethora of questions and inquires as they introduced me on to the stage. As I came closer I began to catch a couple of questions here and there.

"Do you feel nervous knowing that this is your first film that you've written, directed, and produced?"

"How do you feel being able to work with such a distinguished cast?"

"How were the actors on set?"

"Can you tell us anything about Academy award winner, Chris Plum?"

The questions became the answers as they piece together the mystery for me. I turned and noticed a large drape with a movie poster painted on it with the humongous title of the movie blaring on the top. Fully aware that this was a hallucination induced by the state of slumber, I couldn't help but feel proud and excited for such and accomplished moment. This virtual reality allowed me to experience a sample of what the actual momentous occasion would be like once I accomplished my film career.

As the host introduced the cast members one by one, I saw Chris walk on stage and smile at me. I felt uneasy since this smile was different, it wasn't the casual smile brought on by an entertaining moment like the one at the cafe, this was the type of smile he'd send to a someone special, someone close, someone he'd loved, someone like me.

As we walked up to me, he looked even more smashing than he did in reality. I was captivated to see him in a suit and his hair in a delicious formal manner. My pulse was racing out of my chest as he grabbed my hand tightly and pulled me in for a hug. As we unraveled our arms, he leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. I blushed uncontrollably but was still confused. I wanted to ask him "What about Leanne? What about your girlfriend?" but my body still refused to move or even allow me to speak.

Soon, I stopped fight the urge to regain control of my body and decided to lay back and enjoy the show.

We waved to the audience as they tossed their questions toward us.

"How is your relationship with Chris?"

"When are you getting married?"

"How much was the engagement ring?"

As a reporter asked the last question, I could see a fabulously ravishing ring on my ring finger. As I stared longer and longer at the ring in on my hand all I could think was:

Holy shit that thing is fat as hell.

This moment felt unrealistically surreal for a dream. It was overwhelming to try and absorb the beauty of the moment as mysterious people, who I assume are the cast members, surround and congratulate me. I tried to contain my emotions, but a smile fought it's way onto my face as they all seemed happy for me. Men and women crowded behind me telling me what an opportunity it was to work with me.

As I looked back at the crowd, my stomach started to feel uneasy.

Then I stopped waving as the dream took a unpleasant turn of events. My hand impulsively reached into my clutch of it's own accord to check my phone. I had a look of terrifying anticipation on my face as I unlocked my phone to check my home screen. I was caught off guard when I noticed the screen. The screen had nothing but a ticking clock that read 11:59 PM. There was no dialing function or any applications on it except for a clock that was about twenty to ten seconds away from approaching twelve. The second hand on the clock began to inch closer and closer toward twelve as my sanity began to plummet.

I became frantic as I tried to escape in a quick dash but tripped on my heels. I fell flat forward and ripped the constricting dress on the stage as cameras began to congregate toward my embarrassment. I looked around hoping someone would help me up but they all stared at me as I stumbled to try and get off the stage. My knees were bruised by the powerful collision but my ankle took a significant amount damage as I limped toward the back of the stage.

Suddenly there was a wall of impenetrable darkness blocking the exit to the backstage. What kind of dream was this?

In disbelief I tried to turn and search for another exit but my body fell backwards onto the floor as I backed away into a corner. The pain on my legs where two substantial to ignore. My eyes lurked the room one last time in horror as my clothes began to melt into worn rags and old pants as a putrid odor began to arise from my body.

The loud sound of a clock striking twelve rang relentlessly in my ears as grime and dirt collected on my skin. I was clothed from head to toe in bedraggled clothing as everyone just began laughing at a unbearable volume. The loud sounds of mockery continued as I turned toward the cast members and the other people on stage, they seem to be in a state of uncontrollable laughter while pointing at me. As the mocking grew to a earsplitting level, I felt like a mockery – no – I was a mockery. In their eyes, I was a homeless and poor fool in my current condition. My hair was a mess, my body was a mess, I was a mess – a hopeless, worthless, pitiful mess.

Why did this dream suddenly transgress into an awful nightmare?

Why wasn't anyone helpping me?

The laughing continued except now I heard apathetic comments attacking me.

As Chris started walking toward me, I could see my movie poster being burned and roasted alive by the cast members. They fought to tear it from the ceiling and ignite it. The large drape fell to the floor in pieces were it was left to incinerate into ashes.

Why are they doing this? I thought as a waterfall ran down my face.

As Chris came closer, my hopes fell when I saw his disgusted expression. He approached me as I crawled on the floor with my damaged ankle. Chris followed me and pressed his foot down on my damaged leg to stop my movements as he hovered over my aching body.

I hollered even louder as he pressed harder on my afflicted ankle.

His shadow towering over my figure as he leaned down with a stoic expression. My breathing shivered as my heart struggled to function while I cried out in agony. Chris removed his wedding ring and cruelly launched it at my face sending me back to the floor. I felt a childish fear just before he descended his face to meet with my ear. Abruptly, all of the laughing, the crude comments, the flashing of the cameras and even time itself stopped for Chris as his voice whispered the most foul pair of words.

"Welcome to Hollywood"


	5. Chapter 5 - Camilla the Hobo

**Author's note: I am currently working on chapter 6 which will be released in a couple of days. I know I've been very consecutive with my post the last couple of days by upload a chapter a day, but I need to take a break so I will be uploading chapters bi-weekly or one a week.**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Twilight.**

I awoke as chills coursed through my body.

What kind of dream was that?

The last time I had a dream that turned out to be a nightmare was when I broke up with my ex.

My eyes lids separated to see that the movie was still playing. My head groggily scanned the room before making visual contact with Bella who seem unwavering by my gruesome awakening. As the sounds floating in the room began to register, I recognized the scene and realized that the movie was almost over.

My body was fortified with layers of sweat, blankets, and a large concentration of vexatious warmth. The overbearing convection of heat made it intolerable to be wrapped in these layers of blankets. I thrashed and fought to untangle myself from the constricting nature of the soaked wrapping that intertwined around my limbs. I felt suffocated, terrified, hot, paranoid, uncomfortable, and on top of that, an inclusion of goosebumps. I arched my recovering body off the couch and inhaled large quantities of oxygen as my breathing quivered. Shivers occupied my hands as I found it difficult to keep them motionless. I re-adjust my slanted glasses just before they could escape my face and regains blood flow in my numb legs.

Bella looked over temporarily to see me walk over to the kitchen. I could tell that Bella hadn't even noticed that I had been knocked out for about two hours since she was so enticed by the movie.

As I reached the kitchen, I noticed the desert like conditions of my throat.

"Hey, you're gonna miss the best part Camilla! They're at the hospital!" Bella called verbally trying to drag me back.

Best part? More like saddest part.

I ignored her comment and looked for a water bottle to hydrate my dried lips. All that sweating must have taken it's toll on my body. I snatched the coldest one from the fridge and popped open the cap to swallow the inside without hesitation.

Placing the bottle back on the table, I moved to the sink to wash the state of panic off my face. I took off my glasses and inhaled another large dosage of life. I turn the blue silver valve as cold water came rushing out. My moist hot skin was in a dire need of some cold ecstasy as I gathered the liquid remnants of the vertical river into my palms and splashed it on my face.

After a few more attempts, I heard a vibration on the kitchen counter.

"Hey Camilla, is that my phone?" Bella called again.

"Yea, I think there's a notification" I replied grabbing some paper towels.

"Can you check it for me?"

"Sure" I guaranteed before I wiped off the remains of the nightmare plastered on my face.

Since there wasn't a password on Bella phone, I went directly to her home screen. I always told her that one day, someone would take advantage of this and hack all her social networking sites and steal all her information, but then Bella would just say:

"I'll deal with it when it happens"

How are you suppose to deal with it if you don't have your phone?

I placed my glasses back making the text more vivid.

As I clicked on the notification, it led me directly to Chris' social networking account on Twitter.

"Hey I think Chris posted a Tweet" I notified her as I scrolled down his profile to inspect the message.

"He did?! OMG read it to me!" She exclaimed as she tried to digest the Ice cream present in her mouth. She tried to spit out a couple more words, but they were in a incoherent diction.

Bella turned away from the final scenes of the movie and dashed toward me. In process of her pathetic triathlon attempt, she tripped over her blanket, her own couch, and her left foot – real smooth Bella, real smooth.

"Oh I think it was about the cafe incident" I replied reaching the latest message that was just posted only an hour ago.

"It says 'I have recently been confronted with a shocking rumor that I am having an affair with my girlfriend. However, I just must confirm that any speculation about this is false.'" As I made it through the first two sentence in his status update, I was overcome with relief to his confirmation.

"Bella! Look! He actually did it! He cleared the rumor!" I said squealing in the process and continued reading. As I finished verbalizing my victory, Bella circled to my shoulder to inspect the message beside me.

"'Today, while exiting a cafe I usually attend, I encountered a homeless woman"

I paused as I finished reading the third sentence. Bella and I gazed at each other in confusion as our eyes squinted. Maybe it was the darkness or the sudden awakening that was affecting my vision. I rubbed my eyes and looked that the third time before it finally sunk in.

"What?" We said simultaneously.

"Homeless? I'm not homeless. I'm financially stable! I have money in my bank account! What the hell is he saying?!" I boycotted finally realizing that the homeless woman was me.

Chris was actually serious. He just referred to me as a homeless woman.

"Wait finish reading" Bella quickly reminded snickering a little bit in the process. I could tell she found the twist of events to be humorous, but to me, I was deeply upset.

"'I encountered a homeless woman who seemed to be hungry so she asked me for my food claiming it was her's. She even went to the extent of showing me her license, but for some reason didn't have her receipt. The woman looked tired and exhausted as if she hadn't showered or slept for days so I didn't have the heart to tell her no. I gave her my breakfast and tried to be as polite as possible. I hope from this point on there won't be anymore misconstrued comments about the status of my relationship' Is this a joke? Did you tell Chris to piss me off?DID HE EVEN GET YOUR MESSAGE?!" I roared with ferocity waiting for Bella's reply.

"That was kind of a long tweet, I'm pretty sure that's over one hundred and forty characters" Bella commented.

Are you kidding me? That's all Bella can say while this douche bag is calling me a homeless person?

I needed to think this through logically. There was no way Bella would plan such a cruel prank, she knew me and my responses too well. Bella and I respect each other so pulling a hoax like this was completely out of the question.

"Bella, why didn't he get the message?" I asked again except this time with a more respectful composure.

She took a deep breath.

"Well, what probably happened is that Chris most likely didn't check his account since he's a very busy man. So instead, his publicist and or manager probably saw it but forgot to inform him since they are the ones who manage his social networking accounts – not Chris. Chris only updates his accounts and logs in on rare occasions. This being one of those occasions." Bella explained as she slowly reached over and acquired her phone.

I wasn't as angry as I was about the false tabloids, but this was still far from the truth. In fact, people may even believe that this is the truth. I couldn't believe that I was promoted from a gold-digging home wrecker to a food insecure homeless woman. Even though this way I wont get harassed, my reputation will be tarnished.

"Now that I look back at the pictures, I think people may start believing Chris." Bella stated as she turned her phone so I could re-examine the poorly photographed pictures of me. I moved in closer and pressed my glasses to provide some extended clarity.

Bella was moderately correct.

I did look homeless in a way due to the condition of my greasy and unattended hair, the stains and grime that collected on both my tank and my skin, and the complexion of my prehistoric shoes. The three year old converses I wore had holes and rips riddled all over them. The only acceptable part of me were my jean shorts and even that looked damaged.

Bella read the disgusted expression on my face and knew that I agreed to certain magnitude.

"See? I'm not kidding. You really do look like a homeless person but the good thing is..." Bella paused to zoom in on the profile angle of my face.

"...This person doesn't even look like you" She reminded.

No matter how many times Bella denied the familiarity between the girl in the photo and me, I couldn't believe her. Somewhere, deep down, I knew that someone was going to recognize me from that photo. I stood there motionless, Bella continued researching on her phone until she stumbled onto another unsettling aspect.

"Oh on" Bella mumbled as her finger stopped swiping the screen.

"Chris' post already has thirty-seven thousand retweets" She warned as she saw the numbers multiply. I shifted over to her side to see the problematic situation quantify.

"Holy crap! what am I gonna do?" I freaked running my hands through my hair.

As I fondled with my hair, I made it back to the living room and sat down on the couch. With this precariously growing situation at hand, I had to try and think of a solution. No matter what solutions I tried to manufacture in my mind, they all conclude with Chris explaining the actual series of events. As I ran over the possible scenarios again and again, they seem almost entirely impossible without coming into contact with Chris to defend myself. Somehow, I had to find a way to verbally talk to this guy without the use of electronic medias. This man doesn't check his Twitter, his Facebook or any other social networking accounts except on rare occasions.

I was troubled and confused as I was faced with the same question again and again.

How do I meet Chris Plum?

I didn't know anything about this man's schedule except for the occasional visits to Oak's Gourment Cafe in the morning, but he probably won't be present there for a while after what happened with me. There must be a way to completely put this thing at ease without talking to Chris.

There must be a way...right?

As my thoughts grew alarmingly loud, Bella jumped in between.

"I have an idea" She said catching my attention.

I turned my eyes away from the floor and toward Bella to hear her solution.

"Okay, this Friday, Chris has a premiere for his new movie in Burbank, California at Universal Studios. Its a fifteen to twenty minute drive without traffic so we have to go early. Once we get there, we're going shop, eat, and have a make over so we look decent for the premiere. Then at seven were going to the premiere and see if we can talk Chris. Sound good?"

"But, how are we going to get tickets to a premiere? it's tomorrow..." I pessimistically questioned.

Before I could allow myself to be injected with over zealous excitement, I had to make sure everything was going to go according to Bella's plan.

She smiled at me with a hint of devious misbehavior.

"Girl, I got my ways!" She remarked with attitude.

I laughed in response as she jumped to sit down next me. Bella leaned in and gave me a warm hug as her calm approach toward this predicament reassured my storming thoughts. As she released her graceful grip, she paused to look at me.

"Alright, before we can activate our plan tomorrow, we need to do something about you" She said pausing to motion her hand towards my face.

"Do what?" I backed up a little bit as her fingers ascended toward my eyes.

Bella didn't get the hint and continue to move in.

I began to back up so far back that I could feel the edge of the couch. Her hands marched with conviction as it came closer and closer determine to come into contact with my face. She seemed motivated to complete her task even thought I felt uncomfortable. Finally her nails were razor close to the edge my face. I shut my eyes and hoped whatever she was about to perform would be utterly painless.

There was a pause.

"Stop freaking out, I'm just getting you some contacts" She ended before removing my glasses.


	6. Chapter 6 - The Camilla Operation-Part 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Chapter seven will be uploaded in a couple of days. I'm still writing it and it may be longer than chapter 6. I'm also taking a break to plan ahead for the following chapters to make sure I have content to provide.**

**Disclaimer: If this isn't obvious enough, I don't own Twilight.**

Chapter 6

Yesterday only felt like an hour ago.

Before I even entered the room, I knew that it was refurbished just for me – how kind of Tara. After I unpacked my luggage into my new room, I fell quickly into the sweet embrace of slumber. The large glass window encompassing a wall in my room allowed me access to my own personal terrace right next to the one outside of the living room. Although my terrace was not at massive as the living room's terrace, the scenery outside my room rivaled that of the living room's. Despite the compacted nature of my new living conditions, the fact that rent was only three hundred a month, the odds were already in my favor.

I tossed myself back and forth in my bed only to come to the conclusion that returning back to my lethargic darkness was no longer an option.

I awoke to the sound of life fluttering free on city streets announcing that tomorrow had become today. Early risers occupied the streets with their rumbling vehicles, birds visited the plants outside of my room with their twittering greets, and the smell of Pittsburgh was absent. California was so rich with life compared to Pittsburgh that you could practically differentiate the contrast by just the simple task of inhaling. As cracks of divided light cut through the blinds, I tried to break my inseparable bond with the bed. The room was dim but I could still make everything out in clusters of blurs. After last night's movie marathon, I crashed like a meteorite into a cushion of soil. Rolling my head around in the pillow a couple more times, my brain jumped into gear.

Then I remembered.

The cafe.

Chris.

The article.

Everything.

I cringed at the thought of the events that happened yesterday and proceeded to find my glasses. Unfortunately, I had remembered one more detail – Tara hid them. I didn't understand why Tara did some of the things she did. From her wardrobe malfunction at the senior prom to insisting that Rent was an appropriate play to perform for middle school students, taking my glasses had topped the list. I sighed in moderate depression as I decided to find them after I cleansed the sleeping beauty off my face.

What an oxymoron.

I grunted rolling off the comfort of my palace and dragged my feet across the carpeting. I was originally adamant about initiating this 'mission' but as I awoke from my food coma, realism and logic finally set in. We are literally going to a movie premiere to convince, Chris Plum, one of the most prestigious actors in the industry, that I was not a crazed woman who was suffering from destitution, but in fact, normal – there's no way in hell he's believe that. The most psychotic part about this choreographed infiltration is that, we're going to stalk a man to convince him I'm not crazy.

Because that's going to work.

As I exited the room and I made it to the bathroom opposite of my room – how convenient. I bent my head in the other direction as I paused in the hallway. The natural light from the living room spewed into the hallway as vast contortions of opulent light. I scoot over to avoid exposure. I was like a vampire except without the malicious fangs, the crimson eyes, and the insatiable need to extract someone's life through my mouth.

Entering the bathroom, I was struck again by another mistake.

The lights.

I forgetfully set my pupils aflame as a white fire flashed across the walls leaving a diffusion of dots along my vision. I stopped walking, glanced toward the floor, and automatically shut my eyes. Just when I thought I was safe, I was accosted by unrelenting shards of light.

For twenty-eight years I've been in a relationship with morning and for twenty-eight years I've been trying to break up with it.

Forcefully trying to get my eyes acclimated to the shock it was undergoing, I barely opened my eyes. My vision returned to me to as blobs of hues and discoloration. Getting closer to the mirror, I could now visibly define a note that attached itself to the mirror. It wasn't there last night so Tara must have done it this morning. My eyes could now reopened entirely.

I crouched closer afraid that the vulnerability of my sight could cause some self-inflicted injuries.

Finally face to face with the letter, I could observe the unmitigated penmanship that defaced the paper – it was definitely Tara's. I began reading the literary mess she composed.

"Hey there beast!"

Gee thanks.

"I know you're not feeling so beautiful right now, but I've got just the thing to cheer you up. Look down."

Ok.

There's a sink.

I doubt washing my face is going to cheer me up.

"No, not the sink, the items on the counter."

I laughed a little bit at her accurate prediction of my thoughts and how she still oddly remembered the severity of my vision impairment. I return my gaze back to the sink only this time I observed the marble counter instead. To my surprise I noticed the bottles that stood colorfully on the marble counter. As I zoomed in, I began to understand the objects in my line of vision.

Make up.

There were so many make up products. From foundations to concealer to blush - it was all there. The perfect ingredients for a perfect face. However, there was only one problem, since my parent's never condone artificial beauty, I've never actually applied this content onto my skin – ever. The only thing that's ever come close to my face was my four step process: face wash, primer, toner, and moisturizer. Since my mom was from South Korea and was a traditional woman, she was very loyal to her culture, so she demanded that no make up be allowed in the house because it was deceptive to any potential husbands. Gee, thanks mom, that probably explains why I've only have three relationships in my life.

I don't blame her for refusing to disclose me to this kind of material since it was so unorthodox to her practices. I just wished that I had learned how to apply this stuff earlier because it's irrefutably mortifying to be the only twenty-eight year old in California that didn't know how to paint this stuff on her face.

My hands blindly grazed the bottles with quivering elation until I realized I hadn't finished reading the note. I snapped by neck back to the mirror to observe the details that followed.

"I know that's a lot of make up so I'm sharing some of it with you. Some of the make up products are gifts I got from a couple of commercial gigs I did here and there. Don't take too long because I have to put on my face for today as well. Anyways, look in the lower left corner. There's a present for you."

"P.S. When you finish you'll go from the beast to the beauty :)"

What a back-handed compliment.

I submitted to the instructions and diverted the direction of eyes toward a corner to notice a neatly wrapped box in red. It was small and cubical in shape. Reaching for it, I instantly doubted any possibilities that it was ring because, first, Tara just isn't the lesbian type, second, she's not the fiscally loose type of person to spend so much of her finances on other people. She's had almost a dozen relationships in the past decade with very attractive men and not once did she ever buy them anything exceeded a hundred dollars. Sadly, she was madly in love with all of them to the magnitude that this affection transpired to the bedroom. Unluckily for me, Tara can be very graphic when verbalizing the battle that took place below the sheets when we converse on the phone.

It was gruesomely discomforting.

The box rested in my hands as I industriously separated the wrapping from the exterior of the box with an impatient force. Tatters of red flakes fell like confetti toward the floor as I unraveled the mystery within. To my surprise, she kept to her words.

Behind the folds of paper, was a box with a pair of prescription contacts in them just for me.

The realization finally occurred to me that Tara was no longer playing games, she just kidnapped my glasses and refused to return them to me. I almost wanted to confront her and protest for their safe return when I came to a second realization - I had no other option at the moment. Tara was excruciatingly stubborn when it came to every aspect of life. That's one of the prospects about her that allowed her to thrive in the industry for so long. I even remember one time she auditioned for thirty-seven roles in a month and didn't get a single callback, but even that failed to scratch her determination. If she had conviction in her heart, it was almost impossible to stop this train.

I opened the box and stared at the foreign object.

"Well how the fuck am I suppose to put this on?" I self-narrated as a fear collected in the middle region of my upper and lower body. It stayed there and built it's nest as a coiling sensation overwhelmed the area that was occupied by my internal intestines.

I was literally going to stab my eyes with these things.

I valued the security of my eyes too much to risk the chance of permanent blindness. I never put on contacts before either and the process sounded unreasonably painful. I put the box back on the counter and looked at all the items with my limited sight.

I can't put on make up unless I can see and I can't see unless I put on these contacts.

I felt like a helpless child stuck at a mall.

I fondled the box in my hand a couple more times to inspect the literature that might hopefully guide me to any hints about how to apply this. I was hopeless – I am hopeless. Without the assistance of Tara at the moment, there was no way I was going to get this on my face properly without any misappropriations. I sighed in pessimistic desperation and placed the present back on the counter. As I sat down on the floor of the bathroom getting an uneasy temperament about today, I heard a familiar voice on the other side of the door.

"How's it going in there Camilla?" Tara called.

Thank the fucking lord.

It's Tara; here to save the day.

"Horrible, Tara I need your help! Come in here." I kindly demanded.

Tara twisted the knob slowly entering the bathroom to witness her friend who had a masters degree in film be mitigated to the level of an infant. I looked to up to catch the reaction of Tara who looked honestly confused. Her best friend who was confidently ardent about almost every aspect of life was losing her tug-o-war with reality.

"Um, what are you doing on the floor?" She judgmentally questioned.

"I give up. This isn't going to work. The day just started and everything already seems impossible. I don't know how to put on make up, I don't know how to put on my contacts, I don't even know if I want to even do this! I mean seriously Tara? What if this doesn't work? What if it goes in the opposite direction and everything just goes to hell? What then?" I wined with my abundance of rhetorical questions.

Tara sighed and close the door behind her as she walked up to me on the floor.

"Camilla. Calm down. This is the morning you talking. You're tired, you're pessimistic, you're groggy, you're all sorts of nuts right now. I know it seems a little crazy that we're trying to solve something crazy with something crazy, but trust me, it'll work. Haven't you ever heard of the phrase fight fire with fire? Well, we're fighting crazy with crazy. So don't over think it, just do it." She patiently reassured me as she stretched her hand out to me.

I looked at her while a momentary silence to filled the air. My eyes moved up from her hand to see that she had a calm and collected smile glittering from cheek to cheek.

"Sometimes I just don't know how you put up with me." I remarked before conjoining my hand with hers. She gripped my palm tightly before pulling me up off the floor and out of the abyss of my thoughts.

"I'm your best friend, it's my job." She joked.

"Well they should give you a raise." I humored in response.

We both smiled.

I can't believe that I was on the borders of an emotional breakdown. If Tara hadn't saved me just now I think I would've just sat in that bathroom floor and contemplated the dramatic twist of events rather than do something about it. I needed to be proactive and Tara gave me the impeccable chance to change my sullied name and I shouldn't be wasting it by pouting over the past. Instead, I should be planning for the future by always being three steps ahead of the present.

As I stood their briefly, Tara maneuvered around me and approached the door. I turned to see her back face me just before she could reach the door.

Why is she leaving?

"Wait your leaving? What about the make up and the contacts? Aren't you going to help me? I don't know how to put this stuff on." I investigated her lack of response to my plea. As I questioned her, she turned and smirked.

"Of course I am, but you're going to need to shower first." She said just before closing the door

* * *

After an hour of dining and three hours of preparations for the premiere, we were off to put the finishing touches on our make over. I must praise Tara for her mastery of the brush. After she applied make up on my face, which by the way, was a highly unpleasant ritual, she helped me with my contacts. Even though Tara was a genius at the art of make up, she wasn't perfect. I found multiple items in particular absolutely grievous. First was the application of eye liner which sounded simple and speedy since all Tara informed me that "All I'm going to do is drawing a line on your eyes and that's it. We'll be done."

What fucking bullshit.

That eye linger was so bothersome that it seemed more merciful to tear off my eyelids then to be subjected to that tradition everyday. Secondly, there was the eye lash curler which was equally tiresome and time consuming. For the life of me, I could not remain motionless with an object of such dangerous potential being razor close to my precious pupils. At one point, Tara had to clenched by face just to curl my lashes. The entire time I could not seem to interpret why would curling someone's eyelashes even have an effect on the visual presentation of the face.

Speaking honestly, is anyone going to spot the difference?

Now, finally, the most gruesome part of all – the contacts.

I felt as if I was under surgery without any anesthesia.

It.

Was.

Terrifying.

When Tara tried to put on my contacts, every time she came painstakingly close, I started squealing and heaving and morphing the muscles on my face in sheer panic. Eventually grabbing my face and screaming into my eye balls to alert me to "stop moving!" didn't seem to be enough. This was something I had to do by myself, unfortunately.

Even after a couple hours of having these contact lenses on, I had sporadic moments of visual vexation. Sometimes the itching was so intense that I would dislodge the position of the lenses and then we'd have to go through the whole process again. If this was what it took to fit into the American standard of absolute beauty at all times, then I'd rather just do it on rare occasions.

Being mediocre is so effortless.

After we ate and prepared our make up, Tara already had an outfit prepared that she picked out for the night, leaving me being the only one who was unprepared for such a notorious event. Since it was almost five, me and Tara decided that we should quickly find the perfect match for my outfit this evening.

And what better place than the infamous, Nordstrom?

This store was possibly one of the most expensive department stores I've ever entered, with the exception of Mont Blanc; which was a store that sold overpriced pens.

Yes, overpriced pens that require a payment equivalent to that of the dresses sold in Nordstrom.

As we admired the vast selection of fashionable clothing, we had to find one appropriate for my make up and hair. Apparently, according to Tara, I needed "something that would compliment my powerful green eyes and smokey brown eyeshadow while exemplifying the rich crimson of my full lips." In addition, she wanted something that would go well with the curls in my hair that she so kindly spent half an hour on. I felt so annoyed at times because the entire trip after our morning preparations, I had the unquenchable urge to scratch certain areas of my face and hair. But retained this tremendous calling afraid that if I did, I'd mess up my make up and hair and be forced to relive the torture again.

Being pretty is such a pain in the ass.

"How about this?" Tara called from the other side of the hanger and pulled out a dress to display for me. I stopped running my fingers through the massive collections of clothes and looked at the item she selected for me.

"To be honest, it's too professional for such a momentous occasion. Maybe something else?" I denied.

The dress was black and ran short of my knees with a thick gold belt embedded around the waist. I mean sure it was nice and all, but it looked like something you'd wear at an interview, your job, or a funeral; and I wasn't going to any of them any time soon. And besides, the dress was way to constricting and short for me. All my life I've struggled with being overly tall when it came to being a girl. It's so hard to be feminine when you're taller than the majority of guys at your high school. That was a physical predicament I was challenged with when I was seeking a potential partner in college; with the inclusion of my inability to apply make up. No one wanted to date someone who was beautiful, but physically intimidating. At times I felt like a freak because I was a girl at the above average height of five ten. I was literally two inches shy of six feet.

And with Stilettos on, I was a monster.

Even Tara admitted that I should've donated some inches to her.

I passed on her offer and turned back to the rack of dresses to discover other alternatives. There were so many options as time ran through our finger tips. I couldn't possibly try all of them on within an hour and a half and still be able to make it to the premiere in thirty minutes. The entire second floor was nothing but a beautiful gathering of voluptuous dresses, but I couldn't just randomly select one. I have to be selective and strategic about my potential choices.

From yellow to purple dresses; this place harbored a colossal demonstration of dresses for all occasions. It was now up to the both of us to find which one would fit me the best, to find which one that would make me stand out the most, to find which one that would catch Chris' attention.

So far I've only worn five dresses but I've been faced the same problem one after another. I couldn't seem to find one that could fit my tall frame. It seemed as if today was the day that all the tall females in Burbank, California decided:

"Hey lets go out and buy a dress at Nordstrom for no apparent reason."

All the dresses just seemed too tiny or they refused to entirely zip. I found this to be extremely offensive as if it was making a adumbrated remark about my weight. I was perfectly slim for someone of my height so weight was definitely out of the question. And anytime I thought I found a dress the could be a perfect candidate, it ended up squeezing the air out of me like I was a bar of toothpaste.

I love to breathe, so I'd prefer if a piece of clothing I wore allowed me to have at least a flake of oxygen.

"Hey Camilla I'm gonna be right back, I'm gonna ask the lady at the counter to see if I can find you something." She informed just before she turned the corner.

As I look up to give her my confirmation, she was gone. As if her existence was a fabrication of my imagination. Her agility was eerily creepy since I didn't hear a foot step or the motion of her clothing shift as she disbanded toward the counter. I decided to ignore her odd motioning and return to my prime directive.

Before I could turn back to the rack, however, I notice a guy down the aisle from me stare at Tara as she walked away distantly. I saw him in my peripheral vision a couple of times but was unsure if he was looking at me or Tara. Now I was sure that it was her since he failed to remove his eyes as she made her way down the pathway. As I looked up to identify the observer, he turned his gaze back toward the clothes in front of him.

Yea, not suspicious at all.

How uncharacteristic of him, to be a gentleman loitering in the foreign territory of female clothing lines. To imagine what he must be persevering through must be unbearably awkward for him. Was he purchasing something for someone significant?

Was it for a girlfriend perhaps?

A wife?

A relative?

What was his purpose for crossing the border into unknown waters?

I decided to seize my navigation for a moment to get a good glimpse at him. He was surprising well groomed. His tall structure was well suited for his brown hair that stood up in short fashionable waves. He was in a beige blazer with a white shirt under which was a symbol of his compelling understanding of fashion and dressing one's self. On top of that, he had brown dress shoes on with a brilliant glaze equivalent to his silver watch that wrapped around his wrist, a watch that would only be wrapped around a wrist of a man who was untypical. His style was not just contriving his own personal sense of dressing, but was also a representation of his income.

Yes, his income.

Only on rare occasions do I see a man dress that well. And usually when they do, it's probably because they're bank account is financially secured.

His face, in comparison to his income, was worth a million bucks.

I mean this guy was refined from head to toe. He had strong resemblance to Henry Cavil with his strong cheek bones and his domineering eye brows. Although he adopted some characteristics of Henry Cavil, he had his own. His eyes were a bright hazel to the degree that you could consider it golden. As he proceeded to cross his arms in deep contemplation of his viable choices in front of him, his muscles ripped from his shirt and into his blazer.

I retracted my gaze quickly back to the clothes in front of me and hastily sped back to work. My face blushed incalculably as his handsome nature suffocated the room. I didn't want to observe his involuntary flexing for I was on a mission to save my reputation, not my love life. I didn't want to unconsciously flirt since I wasn't looking for a relationship.

As I stayed loyal to my objective, Tara returned from the counter and announced her presence to the whole world.

"Hey Camilla! I think I found something for you!" Tara called from the other side of the grand hall as she ran down the carpet that paved her passage toward me.

As I looked up I saw the man turn to see Tara make her way into our vision. Usually a person would just examine the source of the sound momentarily before they return to their errands, but with him, it wasn't a moment. It may have been something else. He stared at her for an unnecessary length of time before returning to the hanger of clothes residing opposite of him.

There is only two common reasons I'm aware of for why someone of the opposite sex should ever look at a stranger for anything pass five seconds. First, the stranger is being an obnoxious attention whore and second, the person of the opposite sex is fascinated by the view.

Or in this case, fascinated by Tara.

Tara approached me and cut off my view of the man observing her.

"How about this? The lady at the counter said it was the only one left in the store that could fit you!" She exclaimed as she pulled the dress from behind her to gleefully amuse me with her final attempt to cloth me properly.

I tried to ignore Tara to see if the ominous man still remained but Tara refused to be overshadowed. She hoped and jumped trying surmount my figure by tossing the dress into my vision but failed.

But even though she was a petite woman, she still managed to obstruct my perception of that man.

It was to no avail. In order to get a glimpse of him, I would have to go through the impenetrable wall totally composed of the most stubborn element in the world - Tara. I gave in and decided to observe the final alternative she provided instead of identifying the mysterious man who was of no real significance to me.

I moved my eyes down to see the dressed.

As I fully grasp the shape of the dress, my heart experienced something called a "premature ventricular contraction." To define, my heart skipped an entire beat. My heart felt something it's never felt before. It was comparable to undergoing a heart attack all in a segment of a second. I tripped a little bit backwards and grabbed for dear life on the hanger as I took another step away from the dress.

Even that step back wasn't far enough to pull me away from the striking impact of this reality.

I couldn't believe it.

There was no way this was reality. If it was reality, then why would it play such a cruel joke? Because the punch line is far from funny.

Tara's joyous expression slowly crushed into intense mystification. Again, she was so confused at my reaction. I could perfectly comprehend what I was seeing, the only problem was believing it.

In front of my eyes, was not a dress, but a realistic fictionalization of the same red mermaid dress with the same sweetheart neckline from that same horrible dream.

Is this a sign?

That this dream-like reality is about to take a very, very, very dark turn?

**Author's note: Did you like this chapter? If you did you can feel free to favorite, follow, or leave me a review. I'm also looking for an editor so if you're interested PM me. You're welcome to discuss in the comments below who you think the mysterious man is who will be making an appearance in chapter 7.**


	7. Chapter 7 - The Camilla Operation-Part 2

_**Author's Note: The long awaited chapter 7 is finally here. I will be taking a temporary break as I rest for the next chapter which will be up in the next week and a half. Anyways, if you support my story please don't be afraid to show it.**_

_**Disclaimer: Don't own Twilight.**_

Chapter 7

My clutch dropped to the floor.

"Camilla, What's wrong?" Bella worried.

My eyes fell to the dress.

"Is it the dress? You don't like it?" Bella asked again except this time she took another step forward pressing the dress ever so closely to my body. I was morbidly frighten as I unhesitatingly pushed away the dress. Bella looked even more worried as I sent her back to the same spot she just took a step from.

I couldn't. There was no way I was wearing that thing.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before I reopened them.

It was still there.

Despite it's truthful loyalty to it's owner, my vision was lying to me.

My organ that ejected blood throughout my body failed to maintain it's duty. The hair follicles that rested on my skin fought to remove itself from the edge of my epidermis. My lungs refused to partake in my insanity leaving me breathless. I blinked a couple more times except this time I rubbed my eyes but still this petrifying picture remained.

"What's wrong?" Bella asked again with genuine distraught for my behavior. She tried to walk forward once more but I held up my hand to keep her motionless.

"T-this dress is the same one I saw in a dream." I quiveringly replied.

"What?" Bella responded still dazed in confusion.

I tried to collect some air to explain my inexcusable reaction.

"Last night, when we were watching Love story, I had this horrible dream about me going to my first movie premiere to promote my movie. When I walked on stage, I was wearing that same dress!" I shouted pointing my finger horrifically at the dress.

Bella didn't seem to understand the severity of the situation.

"Well that must mean that you should wear it to the movie premiere tonight! I mean if you see it in your dreams then god is telling you: This is the dress for you!" She eagerly boycotted my defense.

There seemed to be a misconception about my statement as Bella smiled fruitfully after her statement.

I did not want to get into that dress. No matter how much Bella defied my plea, getting dressed in that was not a option to be discussed.

"Look, Bella, you don't understand! At the premiere I was dating Chris and then it was going great until I pulled out my cellphone. All it had was a clock on it that was about to strike twelve and for some reason I tried to run off stage but I fell and ripped the entire dress and twisted my ankle! Then everyone started laughing at me as my clothes turned into worn out rags of clothing. Then-"

"Okay, I've heard enough, no more Cinderella movies for you." Bella interrupted as she brushed off the topic of the conversation and tried to turn into the opposite direction. She carried the dress with her ignoring me in the process. Assuming that Bella was going to check out the dress, I couldn't allow myself to permit it. My hand shot at her arm and pulled her back into the conversation. She looked surprise as my actions discontinued her quest. She jolted a bit from being unrelentingly retracted back.

"No you need to here this." I demanded

"What are you freaking out about Camilla?" She snapped at my inconsiderate disapproval of the dress and the the violation of her space.

"I don't want to wear that dress. Please don't make me wear that dress! I just have a horrible gut feeling about what's going to happen if I do!" I tried to subdue her retaliation through my poor persuasive reasoning. At this point I was yelling at the same volume Bella yelled at when she called me from the other side of the hall. The commotion in the room quieted to whispering as they traded thoughts about my improperly loud pronouncement. I didn't care about what they had to say at the moment, the only left to care about at this moment, is this moment.

"Camilla."

Bella breathed; she turned around and let go of the dress to place her hand calmly on mine. As the demonic dress fell to the floor, her hand came into contact with my grip that remorselessly clawed at the sleeve of her shirt. I hadn't noticed how painfully tight I was squeezing her arm. My fingers were so tightly wrapped around her sleeve it was as if I was in a life threatening situation. I loosened my grip as she pulled my hand away softly. I felt horribly guilty and irrational about my attack.

"We have an hour left before the premiere. There is no way we can drive to another department store and then pick out a dress that'll fit you in time. If we do that, we'll be late for the premiere and the doors will close for everyone who isn't apart of the movie – that means us. The lady at the counter told me that this is the only dress left in the store that can fit you." Bella spoke with unwavering aplomb. She knew very well how to deal with an irrational Camilla and took that exact approach.

She paused.

I paused.

Her other hand reached down to obtain my hand that floated aimlessly by my side. As she cupped both of my palms together, my hands remained gently wrapped in a cave of Bella's fingers.

"Look, we don't have to go through with this if you don't want too. I think your nerves might be getting to you and if this proves to be too much, we can go home and that's it. It'll be like this thing never happened. Then after a couple of weeks, this thing will die down."

What?

Was Bella being serious?

Was this really an opportunity to back out?

This was my one and only chance. I could back out now and this thing would be completely forgotten as the most insane thing we almost did - almost. We'll never talk about it again and we both could normally live the rest of our lives in peace and harmony after the tabloids die down.

I began to question myself.

Could this truly perhaps be an unpredictable coincidence between my nocturnal illusion and the fabric of reality? Was my response thoroughly just and decorous? Was this a premonition gifted to me as a symbol of an approaching disturbance? Would I be reasonably logical to back out of it out now?

Or was I overreacting? Making connections and conclusion on the foundations of a massive design of intertwining webs that never really existed initially? Was this over active imagination the product of an insignificant surreality that had no correlation to reality what so ever? Was I being extraneously illogical?

I needed a sign.

A symbol of verification.

Something.

I slipped my hands out of Bella's fingers to slowly reach for the dress. I bent down and picked it off the floor to examine the tapestry of the item. I trailed my fingers through it's intricate needlework feeling the texture press up against my palms.

I began to observe the dress.

Instead of Silk from my dreams, the dress was made of Satin. However, it had a strong concentration of glitter at the top of the sweetheart neckline that dissipated progressively as you digress to the waist of the dress, similar to the one in the dream. Although it carried like factors, there was an obvious difference from the strapless dress I envisioned in my horrible disillusionment. Contrasting from the dream, the dress had a single diagonal strap that attached itself to the dress with a abnormally large rose crafted on the back of the dress' shoulder. As my eyes made it down to the bottom of the darken cerise dress, I underwent a eye opening epiphany.

This was not an identical dress, but a eerie replica.

It was close, but not the exact thing.

I was...wrong.

There are no coinciding aspects between what I dreamed and the reality of life.

If I had just taken time to firmly compare the dress to what my mind invented and to what reality bestowed upon me, then I would've understood that my reaction was entirely uncalled for.

How stupid and reasonless I must have been not realize that the sign was in front of me the entire time.

"Thank god..." I whispered closing my eyes to inhale a glimpse of heaven. The oxygen released the weight that latched itself to my brain as my mind got a grip on sensibility. I let go of the dress with one hand to recover my clutch that was forgetfully still laying idle on the ground.

Bella heard my biblical reference and spoke.

"So? Does that mean we're going to the premiere or are we going home?" Bella questioned quietly still anticipating my answer. I broke my trance with the dress and looked up, locking gazes with Bella.

"We're still going." I spoke softly.

"Going where?" She questioned again at my ambiguity.

"To the premiere." I spoke again except this time with a little more volume.

"Holy fucking shit!" Bella broke her composure.

Wow, now I know why she's such a good actress; maintaining herself just long enough to hear my reply.

"Don't you fucking scare me like that ever again! Oh my god! I thought you went crazy or something! You started grabbing my arm and shit!" She continued in her ranting rampage as she pulled up her sleeve to show me the crescent moons my damaging nails imprinted on her arm.

"You see this? You see what your claws did to me?" She attacked with her rhetorical questions as she pulled down her sleeve. Fortunately, Bella hadn't worn her sleeveless dress yet or else I would've caused some serious damage to her skin.

"Do you understand how worried I was? I really thought you were going to say no and then all of this work would've gone to waste! Jesus Christ, I was going to flip a god damn dragon." Bella lost her composure and patience entirely as she further scolded me. The entire hall echoed with her passionate complaint as her voice thundered with a best friend's rage. It was a reasonable reaction after what I put her through. She's been trying to set this entire thing up for me and all I could do is be childish and unreasonable by trying to escape and runaway in the face of danger. She was trying to get me to solve my problems head on and I could barely maintain my cool.

The red mermaid dress was just a dress, nothing more.

Before Bella could continue, I spoke.

"Okay, okay, take a chill pill. We're still in a public area. I'm sorry for what I did." I replied picking up the dress off the floor in hopes my attempt at trying to maintain Bella's voice would be effective. From the other side of the hall her voice roared and diffused faster than a forest fire. I could hear distinct chattering and criticism about Bella's abusive verbal treatment.

"Fine, I'll calm down, but that doesn't mean I won't hold this over you! Now take the dress and find the nearest dressing room so we can make sure it fits. If it really doesn't fit you, we'll find you another one at another store." Bella crudely accepted my apology and followed it up with a hasty request. As she gave me a starting push toward the dressing rooms, I pulled my Galaxy 3 out of my clutch to check the time.

Noticing the time, I had to inform Bella about our insufficient quantity of minutes.

"I don't think we're going to have enough time to find me another one." I replied

"Why not?" She inquired.

"Because it's 6:13." I answered, holding up my phone to support my assertion. Bella leaned forward to inspect my phone. She was quickly surprised after she observed the restraining circumstantial conditions we were placed under.

"Shit. Okay, just put the dress on in the dressing room and we'll pay for it. Then when you finish we can just leave." She ordered reaching into her purse to collect her form of payment.

"But what about your dress? Don't you have to put that on too?" I asked Bella who seemed to be in a rush.

"It's cool. I left it in the car so I'll just put it on when I get in there." She calmly responded.

"In the car?!"

She couldn't be serious. With all of motion of a car traveling at around fifty to six miles an hour, she was bound to rip that gorgeous thing right down the middle.

"Yes, in the car. Do you have hearing impairment too? Jeez. Just go put it on." She clarified with remnants of slight annoyance still lingering in her mood.

"Okay I'm going." I ended letting my feet dash toward the dressing room.

"Gimmi your clutch as well, I can't pay for the entire thing myself."

Yup. Same old stubborn Bella.

I didn't want to aggravate Bella even more or else we'd both be intolerably bitchy. I assumed based on her religious dedication to Chris Plum, that her unsatisfied demand to come into contact with her idol was getting the best of her. Not only was this the only immaculate opportunity for me to solve my woes, but it was also a unfulfilled prophecy for Bella to indulge herself in. When Bella had registered the possibility that she could actually be in the physical presence of Chris, it must have overwhelmed her.

With the imminent possibility that Bella's chances could be eliminated due to time restrictions, it must have driven her a little loopy.

Something similar happened a few years ago when she almost got the role to play the female co-star in Blue Valentine that held a relationship with Ryan Gosling. Even though the relationship in the movie was fictitious, she was so invested within the character, she could practically fool herself into loving him more than she already did. I guess that's why she didn't get the role.

Bella is unsurprisingly, a passionate person.

As I walked up to the aisles of rooms congruently aligned to each other I saw feet shifting under and moving in most of them. The lady at the counter, that Bella talked to, greeted me on my way toward an empty door.

"Are you ready to check out ma'am?" She asked kindly.

"No, my friend is going to check this dress out for me. I'm just going to put this on in the dressing room and leave afterward." I replied.

"Oh, okay." She ended just time for me to enter a room.

I walked into the dressing room with the door already half open from the previous visitor. I quickly glided through before the previous owner could reclaim their territory. Throwing the dress to the bench, I wasted no time to remove my clothes. Starting with the baby blue cardigan sweater I had on from this morning, I worked my way down to the white Marilyn Monroe tank top. It felt like the temperature suddenly dropped as I was left with nothing but my strapless bra on and my tights. I tried to remain poised and hasty as I moved to my lower body. As I'm trying to remove the tights, the most difficult part of the outfit, I needed to avert my fingers away from the protection under me.

No, not that protection.

This protection is a cushion consisting of a strapless bra, smoothing briefs and Spanx to ensure I don't "show" myself when I wear this dress. This cushion is also a remedy for almost any uncomfortable dress without a corset – those things will just kill you.

Luckily, I prepared for the friction and the constriction of any dress by wearing smoothing briefs with Spanx. In addition, this combination also provides the stunning mirage of no love handles. These love handles were, and always will be, a pain in the ass no matter what your height is.

I pried my fingers into my tights praying that I don't tug on the layering of clothing under me or I'd have to spend another dozen minutes readjusting them. Imagining how awful it would be to explain to Bella why we only have six seconds to get to the premiere, I started to hurry the process.

As I pulled off the last segment of the tights that attached itself to my body, I could finally try out the dress. I turned around and shot my hand directly at the dress.

As I grabbed it, I paused.

Picking up the dress to hold in front of me, I began twirling in the mirror imagining how beautiful and seductive the dress could make the beholder. As my spinning came to a spot, I started to think.

To think, something so inanimate could cause me so much distress. To take a woman from logic and reason to insanity and hostility just by it's visual appearance. I sustained the motionlessness of my body for a while as I absorbed the extensiveness of the the dress. I slowly pet the dress once more racing my tingling finger tips across the unreproducible embroidery this dress was made from. I've never worn something so staggeringly shimmering and couldn't wait to wear it, but somewhere in the back of my mind the doubt still existed...

About to today...

About tonight...

About Chris.

I knew I could always discard and hide the doubts, but I could never truly erase it.

It hid itself in the unthinkable regions of my brain; fostering and growing as it waits for divisions to appear in my adamant cause. As I gave it more attention, it began it's emergence. No. I couldn't revive those absurd uncertainties.

I shook off my emerging skepticism and grabbed the dress.

As I shoved myself into the dress, I could hear a obvious discussion amplifying in volume on the other side of the door. It was Bella's voice and another woman's. They seemed to be having a conversation about something.

"Camilla, you done yet?" Bella called.

"No, I'm putting on the dress right now." I retorted.

"We'll we've got a problem so hurry up!" She rushed.

Moving to the zipper, I threw my hair around my shoulder to let it rest on one side. The dress was almost on, but I couldn't entirely zip the zipper on my back. I turned to the mirror to see other possible ways I could assist toward the completion of this process. The zipper on my back refused to move any higher and any attempt was fruitless. The unzipped region exposed the strap of my bra and sneak previews at the middle region just before my buttocks.

This is unacceptable.

"Hey Bella! I need you to help me zip my back, do you think you could come in here?" I requested dearly.

No reply.

It seemed she was still talking to the other woman.

"Bella?" I verbalized my plea again.

And I'm the one who has the hearing impairment?

"Bella!"

My vocals echoed this time hoping my voice would reached her dysfunctional ears. I decided that if I confronted her, it was better than waiting in this tower like a princess in distress. I was obviously stuck in this quandary and she is obviously not a prince in shining armor, and I was obviously not going to get any help. I sighed and decided the only guaranteed way I was going to get Bella's attention was to get to Bella. I threw my hair back over my shoulder to rest on my back as I strutted bare footed with my converses in one hand and my clutch and clothes in the other. I ignored the fact that my hair couldn't totally conceal the uncovered skin on my back and digressed toward Bella.

"Did you not hear me calling you?!" I rudely questioned.

As I walked over to Bella, she continued talking to the lady at the counter. It seemed almost like an argument. The bridges between Bella's eyes had compressed so much it showed wrinkles of discontent. As I came closer I could hear coherent words that didn't seem appropriate for a civil conversation. Looking now at the violent hand gestures Bella was choreographing, something felt peculiar. As I came up next to them I instantly comprehended that it wasn't "almost like an argument", this is an argument.

"What store would sell a mermaid dress for that much?" Bella loudly questioned.

"I'm sorry ma'am, b-"

"Don't call me ma'am. I'm twenty-eight. It's insulting." She snapped interrupting the composed lady in front of us.

"I'm sorry, but that's what the tag says. I can't do anything about it. I don't set the prices for the items, upper management does that." She apologized and followed it up with a explanation.

"Well you can tell upper management to kiss my-"

"Bella!" I shot my words into her face stopping her in the process.

I continued.

"The lady is talking respectfully to you, don't you think you could return the favor? She's only the doing her job. Just pay her the money so we can go." I ordered Bella as she grew quiet.

"I can't." She mumbled.

"And why not?"

There was a paused. Bella didn't speak nor did the lady at the counter speak. I looked around feeling bemused by the silence and the instant conclusion of their argument. All of a sudden the tone and the sensation within the atmosphere surrounding me morphed. Examining both of them, they refused to make any eye contact with me.

"Well?" I pried further into the conversation.

I knew I was missing an essential part of this topic and I was determined to acquire what I did not have.

Then Bella spoke.

" It's Because...well...we don't have enough money."

"Don't have enough money? How much is it?" I asked the cashier.

"Seven hundred and fifty dollars." She replied turning the monitor to me to show me the price.

"Without tax." She finished.

At moments like this, you just can't help but hate California's expensive living standards. Seven hundred and fifty freaking dollars for a fucking mermaid dress? This is just like that incident at the cafe where I had to pay twenty-four dollars for three items. This dress was undoubtedly fabulous, but it was not worth such an demanding price. I looked at the price once more and rubbed my teeth lightly against each other like tectonic plates contemplating my next move.

Was it honestly worth it?

Doing logical calculations between the prize and the cost for the prize, I needed to make a decision. This was not only important to me, but also something important Bella because she had wanted to accomplish this for a while.

I ran my hand through my hair and finally came to a verdict – it was not worth it.

To spend so much money on a plan with no guaranteed victory, was like gambling. Except this gamble had two outcomes: one successful, and the other dangerously detrimental. It was as if we were investing in stocks with a fifty-fifty chance that they could either go up or plummet to it's death. What if we just spend all this money for absolutely nothing? What if everything just backfires?

Was providing my reputation salvation really worth such a large investment?

The doubts.

They were back.

Stronger than ever.

I had to say something.

"Bella, I don't think it's worth it." I spoke turning myself toward her.

"Worth what?"

"I don't think buying this dress is worth it. I don't think my reputation and who I am presented as for the next couple of weeks is worth seven hundred and fifty dollars. It just doesn't seem logical."

"Wait no. What about-"

"Bella. I'm sorry. This is it. I just don't think it's worth it."

"Maybe we could-"

This time I didn't stop her, she stopped herself.

The atmosphere grew unnaturally dark despite the bright lights that ignited the grand hall.

Bella was breaking. To see such a passionate and bright individual break was a heartbreaking spectacle. Bella had set her aspirations so high, only to watch it fall in the very end. This time she didn't protest, this time she didn't yell or scold me, this time she was quiet, this time she gave up.

Bella reached her hand over and grab the money off the counter table as I watched the crushing defeat in her eyes boil. She turned and walked as I watch her painfully drag her feet on the carpet. Her head was limp with broken ambition as she walked with her gaze glued to the ground.

"Is she going to be okay?" The cashier asked quietly.

"She'll be fine." I lied.

Refusing to break my visual hold on Bella, I stared at her as she traveled aimlessly.

I felt horrible about the twist of events today, but there was nothing we could do. How were we going to pay for a seven hundred and fifty dollar dress when we both only had a few hundred on us. I knew what she was going to say.

"Maybe we could drive home and get my credit card?"

"Maybe we could go to a Cash machine somewhere in the mall?"

"Maybe we could get another dress for a cheaper price?"

And the answer to all of those three questions, essentially came down to the availability of time – something we didn't posses.

Before I walked back to the dressing room to remove the dress, I got one last glimpse at Bella who was slowly walking and staring at the ground. She was only a few feet from me, but I felt so distant.

"Camilla if you need me, I'll be over-" Bella stopped herself before she could finish as she almost fell backwards but was thankfully saved by someone.

"Ow, sorry for bumping into you. Thanks for catching me Camil-"

Little did she know, that I was not the one who caught her fall for I was a few feet too far to catch her. The hero that saved her was a man, the man, the same man I saw from before. The man with the white shirt, a beige blazer, and the unforgettably untypical silver watch. This was the man from before who was infatuated with the sight of Bella even though it was only for a group of moments in time.

I gasped at little bit induced by the shocking surprise of her blind collision and from the dashingly handsome man who saved her from her impact.

Bella didn't move as he had one hand wrapped around her back and one hand with a gently grasp on her limp wrist. They both looked surprise as neither of them refused to move from their positions. Bella's eyes had a unbroken fixation with his glare. They exchanged visuals for a couple more seconds before words broke this coincidental encounter.

"Um, would you mind um." Bella couldn't find the words.

"Yea I'll let you um...yea." And neither could he.

He lifted her to her back to her previous stance and dusted himself off as Bella adjusted her purple translucent blouse. He seemed to blush at the moderate transparency of her purple shirt as he ran his fingers through his untamed hair and looked in the other direction.

"Sorry about that, I wasn't looking where I was going. Thanks for helping me." Bella apologized in a reserved disposition.

"No problem. It was my pleasure. I mean- uh. Not my pleasure in seeing you fall, it was uhm my pleasure in helping you because you looked like you needed help because you were falling and I didn't want to see you fall."

"What?" Bella replied to his spastic and discombobulated explanation. He spoke so fast it seemed Bella was barely able to pick any words.

"Never mind. I, uhm, I heard you from over there and thought you could use some help." He kindly remarked still shy.

"Oh that? You don't need to worry about it. It's over." Bella said as he pulled his wallet out the back of his pants.

"No it's not!" I yelled from back at the counter smiling at this adorable pairing.

Bella furious turned and mean mugged me as I giggled about her hateful response.

"Well, if its not too late, I can pay for the dress." He offered.

"No it's fine you don't have too." Bella replied pushing away his wallet.

"No I insist. You see...my father is one of the owners of Nordstrom."

_**Author's Note: Part 3 will be extensive work so I will take my time with that one. Please leave a review or favorite this novel. If you have any questions I will be glad to answer. I am still looking for an editor if anyone is interested.**_

_**THANKS FOR READING!**_


	8. Chapter 8 - The Camilla Operation-Part 3

**Author's Note: Hey guys, I know I've away for quite some time and I promised chapter 8 would be up in a week and a half. Sure enough, I kept my promise and here it is a week and a half later. It's not as long as the previous chapters because this is the chapter before the premiere. I know the suspense and the climatic build is insufferable, but just bear with me for one more chapter. The next one is to DIE FOR.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight; only the books.**

Chapter 8

After paying for the dress, this man, who was later reveal as Edward Cullen, gave us a lift to our destination.

How were we suppose to know that Bella's irresponsibility would emerge at such an untimely moment?

I mean, what are the chances that someone could forget to get gas?

Seriously, what are the chances.

We didn't have any expendable time left, so calling for a taxi wasn't a likely alternative. Luckily, he insisted that he'd walk us to our car where he would eventually observe the two of us ludicrously try to figure out why the car wouldn't start.

Yea, Bella, why wouldn't the car start.

After a few minutes, he insisted that we should hitch a ride with him because he also had to go to an important event. Understanding that we were both under time constraints, Bella removed her dress from the trunk and transported it into Edward's vehicle – a white corvette. The vehicle was just another symbol, on top of his clothing, that was an expression of his own expensive personal taste; funded by his income. As for Bella, she would return to her car tomorrow, but for now, she didn't care as much.

At first, the primal incertitude was daunting since we couldn't wrap our minds around why a stranger would lend us a segment of his time and money, and in addition, a ride. He offered to take us to our event prior to his since it was relatively close to the location his event would be hosted at; we accepted. Every now and then I would glance at my phone and maintain my deduction of time. Occasionally I'd stare out the window to observe the scene as the surroundings melted and converged in a stretch of colors. Just how fast was he going?

I had my secret notions about him. About why he was so generous. Did he think we were just a pair of doltish women he could swoon like the many before us? No, that couldn't be possible. This was the same man that blush comparably to Bella as he caught her before her fall. So maybe he wasn't the narcissistic player I presupposed him to be, but something about his presentation screamed disingenuous.

Maybe I was over thinking the simplicity of this man, or maybe not.

Was he a rapist? No, he couldn't be a rapist. With that face, if he wished for intercourse from other women, sex would be dispensable.

Was he a stalker? Very plausible. How else would he have known Bella would be at Nordstrom with me and be there at just the perfect moment to catch her fall? He was also unusually attracted to her, but then again, Bella had her way with men. He couldn't be an ex because Bella would've recognized him at that moment and jolted like lightening out the store so fast that thunder couldn't follow.

Could he be a murderer? But what kind? A sadist? A serial killer? A damaged victim of domestic abuse, bullying, or of rape himself? Or worse, could he be a cannibal?

Geez I have serious trust issues.

Whenever there's a lack of conversation, I always tend to lose my grasp on reality and develop these odd conversations with my thoughts in the midst of almost any moment. If these thoughts ever went verbal, I don't think I'll ever have a humanly conversation again. In fact, I'll just make it easier and change my identity.

"Could you stop doing that?" Edward spoke interrupting my thought process.

"Doing what?" I replied mildly bewildered.

I looked over to see if Bella knew what I was doing but she just sat on her side of the seat with her dress in her lap. Bella didn't seem to notice anything at all since she was on her phone doing who knows what.

"You're looking at me with this glare in my rear-view mirror. It's kinda weird."

"Oh sorry, I didn't know."

Lying on reflex, you're horrible Camilla.

"Well, you keep looking at me with this look. It's like your suspicious at why I'm being so nice. Did you expect me to ask something of you two?" He questioned remarkably precision.

Damn he's good. Was I that readable? Or was his deductive reasoning abilities stronger than just the naked eye?

"Well yea, it's not everyday someone pays seven hundred and fifty dollars for a dress and offers two women, who you don't even know, a ride. I can't help but be a little skeptical." I ejected the grievances that had been building at the edge of my throat for the past couple of awkward minutes.

"I already said I didn't pay for it. The store took care of it so I'm fine. I told you, my father is one of the largest stock holders of Nordstrom so money is never an issue." He re-explained his defense to us again as if stating it half a dozen times at the counter wasn't enough.

"Speaking of your dad, you never told us his name." I wondered trying extend the conversation before it reverts back to the awkward silence.

"Peter Nordstrom, he's one of the three current leaders at the national franchise."

"Why don't you guys have the same last name?"

This time I asked with genuine interest.

"He got a divorced and re-married my mother when I was a kid. He said we didn't have to change our last names if we didn't want to and my mom agreed that it was the best option. Their logic was: what's the use of changing your last name if no one's going to call you by it?"

I laughed. " I guess that makes sense."

"Are you going to inherit the family business?" I continued.

"Probably not. He wants me to, but I don't feel like that's what I want to do."

"Why not?"

"It just doesn't interest me to be running a multinational corporation for the rest of my life. He said if I go to college and study to get my masters in business management then afterward if I still don't wanna do it, I could go pursue my dream."

"Did you?"

"Yea. It was a drawn-out and challenging process, but I finished a few years ago."

"Geez, he really wanted you to take over the company huh?"

He laughed.

"Yea, but at least now I can follow my dream."

"What is your dream?"

"To be an actor."

That statement took me by surprise. I didn't expect him to be an actor, more like an aspiring businessman or an artist. Then again, you could consider an actor to be an artist since performing arts is a form of art. I turned to Bella to see her reaction to such astonishing news, but to my expectation her ignorance to the conversation made her indifferent. She was still on her phone as she tucked herself away in the corner of the car.

"What a funny coincidence, Bella here is also an actor." I added to his previous statement. Looking back over to Bella, she abruptly jumped; detaching herself from her phone.

It worked.

What?

Who?

When?

Where?

Why?

All the questions fantastically revolving in a cluster of confusion in Bella's mind. She looked up and darted her eyes around like a stranded squirrel. After realism finally registered, she corrected the couple strands of hair that fell from the collection she tucked behind her ear.

"Uh yea, I'm an actor." She replied.

"Oh cool, um, maybe we should be casted in a movie together." He joked nervously. The sudden emergence of Bella's intervention into the conversation had broken his sentences that were once fluent, short, and direct. Edward started laughing at the absent humor in his joke.

Bella followed in response.

When Bella dates, she's always nervous when she meets someone attractive for the first time, but it faded over a period of time. However, with Edward, it seemed like this nervousness is inherently embedded into his personality. If they ever got together, we'd know who would be wearing the pants in the relationship.

"Maybe Camilla could direct the movie." Bella joked responsively looking over to throw a slight nudge in my direction.

"Camilla? You write screen plays?" Edward asked inquisitively surprised.

"I wrote quite a few but only a small hand full was ever performed at my college. I came to California hoping that would change and I would finally get to create some movies."

"Well you came to the right place." He remarked much more confidently to me than to Bella. Was she that intimidating? Or was he flustered by her presence?

Bella laughed and continued to inherit my role in the conversation as I looked out the open to window take hold of the surroundings once more. The sun had run closer to the edge of the horizon as it's warm glow followed it's reseeding footsteps. The dark forces of the night began to overshadow the light with the moon leading the legion on the other horizon. Almost having a micro panic attack, I pulled my phone out from my clutch once more to keep track of time.

Relief.

The time was disproportionate to the scenery in California. Even after changing my time settings, I hadn't fully conformed to the environment here. I thought I was going to have to yell in Edward's ear to "Hit the gas!", but instead I can just relax. Relax, and look at the sun's retreat. This was my first time absorbing the California Sunset. In so many movies I've seen with Hollywood as the setting, I felt as if they over exaggerated the extravagance of this sunset – especially at such a low altitude. Maybe I don't understand, or maybe it's truly just a conventional sunset, but I might not be seeing something the other citizens of this state were seeing. What was so special about this sunset?

I knew my thoughts were wandering but I didn't care. I didn't want to reintroduce myself into the conversation that possessed no stimulating substance or topic. They were both nervously flirting with each other, and to interject between that would be so discomforting. For a while, my attention was fixated on the props outside my window on this theater of life. How people became the actors and actress in the main roles of their movie; watching the script play out. It wasn't until something or someone more interesting came along that I became distracted from the channels on this natural television.

The conversation in the car grew to halt as the engine was disengaged by the simple maneuver of a key. I tore my eyes away from the world I saw on the other side of the looking glass to see what was profound enough to hinder Bella's flirtatious mingling. Sure enough, the answer came into the shotgun seat directly in front of us. A woman. So gorgeous that beautiful was a inappropriate unit of comparison for her looks. She was a brunette with rebellious strands of blond that curled in her glamorous brown hair. Her make up – if she wore any – was either so skillfully applied that it made her look naturally unblemished, or entirely devoid.

Her strapless dress is a white slim and silk crepe dress with a large gold belt with other gold accessories decorating her canvas of clothing.

"Hello Edward! Aren't you looking swell?"

Hold up. She's British?

She spoke entering the car with a lively spirit. Neither of us spoke a word besides the driver. I was speechless as her presence besieged the compacted confines of the car.

"Hey, you don't look too bad yourself." He said.

"And who are these lovely ladies?" The unestablished feminine figure wondered.

"Oh, that's Bella. And that's, um, Camilla." He introduced Bella while hesitating to remember my name.

"Hi, I'm Leanne. Oh those are such beautiful dresses! You darlings are going to make me look bad." She said closing the passenger door and turning to shake our hands individually. Leanne was obviously a social butterfly letting her wings happily expand in the face of strangers. To be such a nice person and have the mental capability to survive in this judgmental industry, I must commend you Leanne.

"Girl, what you talkin' about? You are freaking gorgeous! If anyone is going to look bad, it's going to be us, because you are remarkably stunning!" Bella complimented gleefully while using both palms to greet her extended welcome. Leanne's warmth was infectious. It was as if I was watching the reunion of the long lost sisters.

Leanne giggled at Bella's colloquial slang.

Leanne. Where have I heard that name before? There's no way I could forget such a memorable name. I tried to recover fragments from the most recent events in my life. I scanned her name through the matching mechanism my mind assembled, but it didn't qualify with anything at the moment.

Could I have met her earlier in my years? Perhaps she was someone who contributed to a powerful part in my life. Fitting her name into all the significant parts in my life, I couldn't recall a segment where I encountered a Leanne. Maybe I read it somewhere? But where?

I jumped off the train of thoughts back to Leanne's hand as I reached my palm out to meet hers. If I had paused any longer, the silence would've been falsely construed as rude and unmannerly. I smiled and jealously admired the soft grip of her fingers.

God she's so perfect.

"Hey, Leanne. Have we met before?" I asked her still unable to reconfigure her features into any memory stored away in my brain.

"Um, I don't think so. But then again, I do meet a lot of people so I'm sorry if I don't remember you." Apologizing for something that hasn't even happen. She let go of my hand and turned back to her seat just as Edward ignited the monster that fueled the mechanics of this mobile contraption.

"So where are you gorgeous women headed?" She asked.

"Oh, um were going to Universal Studios for a special event." Bella raced to answer the question before I could lower my jaw to make a noise.

"You didn't say anything about the event, I thought I was just going to drop you off at Universal Studios. So you guys are coming with us?" Edward asked purely puzzled but delivered the last questions with a hint of excitement.

"What a coincidence! Are you guys going to join us?" Leanne followed his question with her own.

"Sorry we can't, we're almost late for our event and it's going to last till nine." Bella apologized and quickly glanced over to me and mouthed "Are they going to the premiere?". She knew what this meant. There are two possible outcome of this situation, if it progressed any further, either we get caught and thrown out my security or - if we play our cards right - we can get in with Leanne and Edward.

"That's odd. I thought James reserved the entire place for the premiere until nine." Leanne asked staring at Edward now.

"That is odd." He said mimicking Leanne.

A pause. Quick, Camilla, say something.

"Wait so you guys are going to the premiere too?" I spouted instinctively before the seed of doubt plagued their thoughts.

Leanne turned back to us and laughed.

"You girls are silly! What event did you think we were talking about? There's only one event that's going to be held at Universal Studios today."

"Sorry for that miscommunication." I jokingly apologized and replicated her smile to the best of my ability.

"It's fine darling, now we all get to go the premiere together." Leanne announced turning back to find a comfortable position on the seat.

"Why didn't I see you guys on set when we were filming?" Edward asked breaking the safety of the silence once more. We were back in the danger zone as the cross examination grew in difficulty.

Shit, what do I say? I haven't even watched the movie nor do I know the title of it.

"Oh we were on set occasionally when James needed us, but we stayed at the studio most of the time. I work the afternoon shifts with the interns and you guys filmed mostly during the morning hours so I guess that's why. Also, Camilla here works the same hours, but spends most of her time in editing so she doesn't get to see the sun very often. Besides, when James had the film the rest of the movie in London, the budget for the film was the main priority so he didn't fly the people he felt were more efficient at the studio than at the set. You know how James is, always knows what's best."

Edward and Leanne paused and looked at each other.

"That's him alright!" Edward loudly remarked and suddenly they constricting car became occupied by their laughter.

They all kept laughing and agreeing as Bella smiled deceitfully in my general area.

Did she just? How the hell did she know that? Was she bullshitting them? If she is, they ate that bullshit without even thinking twice.

Bella laughed and winked at me.

"How did you know that?" I mouthed inconspicuously.

"Did you forget I was vice president of the Sugar Plums? I know everything there is to know about Chris." She whispered back deceptively. Her whisper coated with the laughter and the anecdotes Leanne and Edward were submerging themselves in. For the first time, I wasn't extensively disturbed by her study of Chris, rather I also felt a rush of gratitude for her dedication to Chris. I smiled back at Bella and pushed her lightly away.

Bella understood my strange sense of endearment and continued.

"See? This is why people think you and I are together. You're always so generous and fun with every girl you meet every where you go that it's hard not to fall madly in love with that handsome face." Leanne praised after having a humorous miniature conversation with Edward.

Edward chuckled.

"Awe, that's sweet." I reinforced her compliment.

"Thank you." Leanne replied.

"Don't encourage those rumors. Leanne's already in the relationship with Chris." Edward quickly defended.

Now I remember. I haven't met her before, rather I heard her name in an article – the article. The article that caused a storm wave of rumors about me and Chris. The same article that made me go on this rambunctious trip to save my reputation at this cost of this hefty price. Leanne Swan, the girl who has been dating Chris for the past couple of months, is the same woman I am seeing now. I am in the same car with a woman who Chris is dating and this woman doesn't even suspect a clue about who I am. I grew suddenly mute at the suddenly realization of this recovered information.

I looked over at Bella; she is wasn't phased at all.

Had she already known it was Leanne Swan when she arrived? Of course. Bella was the one who showed me the article, on top of that she's been following the life of Chris Plum for the past couple of years. How could she not know? Like she said, she practically knows everything there is to know about Chris – everything.

"Speaking of those spiteful rumors, did you hear about the recent one? About Chris and this girl at the Oaks Gourmet Cafe?" Leanne asked Edward.

Edward laughed. "Yea."

"It seemed like the writer wasn't even trying. How could they mistaken a homeless girl for a potential lover? When Chris sent it to me, I laughed hysterically."

"However, I do feel bad for her. That poor girl is innocently being tangled in a vicious web of lies. Even after Chris confirmed that she's not in anyway in a relationship with him, his fan base is still hunting her down." Leanne voice lowered to a heart breaking sympathy.

"Poor girl." Edward commented.

"Wait, I thought that I – um. I mean, the Vice President resolved this on the fan site." Bella spoke hesitantly almost revealing her identity.

"She must have not done a very good job then. The President of the site already found out who the girl in the picture is and they're apparently planning something. That's what Chris' manager told me earlier." Leanne replied delivering a statement of upsetting news.

My grip around my phone tighten as my fingers began to tangle and clench the metallic frame of my phone so tightly that the case struggle to stay on the phone. How could they uncover my identity at such an expedient pace? I didn't have any social networking, barely any form of contact, and I only just arrived in California. The possibilities of this outcome suddenly became to real to bear. I didn't want to be in this car anymore even if it meant I had to role down the window to jump out.

"Did they say who it was?" Bella asked as her throat gulped to the degree that it sounded like a heart beat had emitted from the inside of her esophagus. Bella didn't look at me nor did I look at her; both of our eyes were fixated on Leanne.

Leanne paused to think.

The atmosphere of the car grew silent.

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	9. Chapter 9 - The Camilla Operation-Final

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the long await chapter 9. After 3 parts and over 12,000 words, I finally completed the final installment to The Camilla Operation. After this chapter the titles will return to normal, but the story will forever remain enticing.**

**8/14/13 Update: I just went through chapter 9 and edited most of the visible errors and edited a large quantity of dialect.  
**

**Disclaimer: Who own's Twilight? Not me.**

Chapter 9

"Christina Padley, that's who they identified her as."

I reached over and grabbed Bella by the wrist as I exhaled with a deep exasperation. My fingers clung to her wrist for dear life as she looked over to express her form of relief. Bella could feel my fingers vibrating with a nervous tension as I close my eyes and wish for them to remain closed for the entirety of the trip.

"Are you sure Leanne?" Bella asked once more for total clarification.

"Positive, I saw the article just moments before I entered the car." Leanne's words loosened my grip on Bella's wrist. Bella fell back on the seat. Despite the fact that my security is now insured, a innocent girl is now going to be the object of blame for the actions she's never committed. Deep down, below the layers of relief and gratitude for this false speculation, I felt guilt for this undeserving victim; absorbing the consequences of a photo she was never apart of.

My tried to keep my eyes shut for the rest of the trip. The only time I ever want my eyes to be open again is when this trip is over – completely over. I don't want to open my eyes for the movie premiere, I don't want to open my eyes for Bella, I don't want to open my eyes even for Chris; I only wanted to open my eyes when everything is back to the way it was. I miss the small moments of serenity and peace I had on my entrance into Los Angeles. The late night movie marathon, the view of this endless kingdom, the fresh start I had upon arrival, I miss all of these things. I didn't want to be here, I wanted to be in the comforts of my bed and snuggle with my dreams.

Everything that's happened so far today was to prepare me for the final outcome. This trip to Universal Studios is the final installment before the conclusion to this unfortunate saga. I wasn't ready for the season finale and I didn't want to see the last episode. I just wanted to grab the remote and shut off the TV.

Off. Off. Off. The TV wasn't turning off. I guess I didn't have the remote. I guess the remote is probably in the cushion of a couch; out of my reach. I guess I'll probably have to watch this episode to the end. I guess I'll have to open my eyes after all.

* * *

After we arrived, we were accosted stood by a storm of reporters. To avoid the flash of the cameras and suspicion about our alter identities, we stood within Edward's proximity. Leanne left to go find Chris after her red carpet walk and interviews with the journalists and the paparazzi.

About half way through the red carpet walk, the blinking artificial stars that continuously died and revived themselves heightened in intensity. The screaming lights became intolerable. Fans shouting at Edward and the other cast members who arrive within the same time frame didn't seem to be annoyed by it, instead they were tolerant. After being in the business for this long, this magnified attention doesn't seem to move them as much anymore. The majority forcefully beget a plastic smile across their lips and shook the hands of the fans who appeared, but the minority actually displayed honest acts of generosity.

As I strawed away from Edward, eyes began to scrutinize my displacement among the carpet.

"Who is she?"

"Is she a cast member?"

"Is she someone's date?"

So many eyes were on me that I remembered that I wasn't just in my tank top and jean shorts anymore, I was submerged in the luxuriousness of Hollywood. I could understand how ordinary people could be spoiled by fame and fortune. From my hair to my make up to my dress, this was the life aspiring people dreamed to behold. To be able to walk the red carpet and to be recognized on instinct while roaming the streets; this is what is considered to be the Hollywood dream.

The flashing flares breaking up my vision, the utter disturbance of my mental peace through unrelenting screams of people, and the nervousness coiling in my stomach made me want to vomit.

"Hey are you okay?" Bella caught me as I tripped on my heels.

"No, get me out of here." I said as I covered my face with hand.

"What's wrong?"

"I just... I feel sick. I'm nervous. I'm dizzy. I just don't want to be here. All these cameras are giving me a headache; just leave me somewhere I can rest before the movie." I complained softly staring at the crimson texture of the carpet.

"Alright. Hey Edward, Camilla isn't feeling well. Is there somewhere she can rest?" Bella called out to Edward who was speaking to an interviewer about his role in the movie.

"Yea, um, just go to the actor's lounge. It should be left from concessions."

"But isn't it only for actors?"

"Yea, but no one goes in there. All the actors are either on the red carpet or in their dressing room."

"Alright thanks."

We diverged into the unknown waters without Edward or Leanne to guide us; only Bella and me. Ever since I awoke this morning I've had this unsubsidized sensation of grim. Similar to walking into a downpour, I've felt like throughout this trip we've been walking further and further into the heart of the rain – the storm. As Bella helped me pass the congregation of people, the building became visible. We were walking into a rain storm with winds strong enough to wipe us away.

Could we stand our ground or will the merciless gale tear us apart?

I stumbled and hid from the lights as my feet carried me onward through this solid red sea.

The flashes calmed down as Bella opened the glass door. It became more peaceful from our transition into the building with light and sound at a minimal and tolerable level. I stumbled a couple more time in these heels before I found my posture and erected my frame back to my unnaturally tall height.

"Is that better?" Bella asked.

"Yea."

"How do you get used to...this?" I asked after pausing to collect myself.

"I've been through this a few times before so it's nothing new, however it's still a lot to take in each time I go to something like this. Just go rest. I'll go keep Edward company and we'll meet you in theater at seven thirty." Bella stated; letting go of me in the process.

"You go flirt with him, Mrs. Cullen." I teased as she made her way back to the door with an unparalleled speed. Bella's accomplish mastery of dashing in five-inch heels is quite honorable.

"Stop it before a pap hears you." She whispered before chasing the red carpet back to Edward.

Pap? Is that short for Paparazzi? How strange.

I kept the word in my mental dictionary for later use as I began my expedition for the concession stand in the theater. Like any theater, this one was dimly lit by only a few strategically distributed lights through the halls. The carpeting was patterned differently in here than it was outside as I roam the halls until I could navigate my way toward the concessions. Behind the concessions was a split path - one to the left, one to the right – that seemed to extend for a undetermined distance.

Although the hallway was undetermined in length, you could still see that it was quite a distance till the end. I turned into the left path and took notice of all the special redesigning they must have done to prepare for today. Each door down this corridor was labeled with the first and last name of the cast members for this movie.

"Edward Cullen...Leanne Swan... Danny Mitchell... Theodore Bavell."I narrated quietly to myself.

As I made it almost half way through the path, my eyes caught something in it's vision. Just before the open entrance into the actor's lounge, a familiar name was identically pasted onto one of the front doors. Even though it was written in a similar manner to the other cast members, this name stood boldly among it's group. Chris Plum, a unforgettable name with an unforgettable encounter.

I was presented with two options once more today; either turn left into the actor's lounge and remain there until the premiere of the movie or turn right and meet Chris Plum. Rest was tempting, but completing this quest was much more satisfying. I walked up to the door and stared at it intently as I prepared myself psychologically.

This is it.

This time I controlled myself, this time I would not let my awareness of the situation break me and my composure, this time I took one breath and that was all. I choked the nervousness sprawling in my gut, I killed the butterflies writhing in my stomach, I burned the pessimistic seeds of fear in my mind. I did everything I could possible do to prepare myself for this moment.

I wasn't ready.

Just like that moment where I was almost caught by Leanne, I wasn't ready. Everything horrific that's happened to me this entire day was trying to prepare me for this ultimate task. Whether I liked it, Whether I was ready for it, I need to do it.

I calmly place my hand on the cold metal knob that would guide me to the finish line and began a circular twisting motion. I could hear the clicks and mechanics of the framework all working in a coercive manner against me. The door knob is trying to turn the door knob back in the other direction, trying to stop me and tell me to go, trying to give me a second chance at escape. I didn't listen to it, rather I just listened to the clicking of the screws and clogs coming into contact as the door began to become unlocked. Finally, the knob stopped turning.

The door is fully unlocked.

I took one more breath before I planned my introduction, my case, my solution, the agreement me and Chris will agree on, and my exit.

This is it Camilla.

Don't be distracted by his eyes, his face, his lips, his eyebrows, his cheek bones, his hair – nothing. You're main objective is clear and simple.

I pushed the door, and walked in.

"Excuse me Chris we need to ta-"

It was empty.

He wasn't there in his dressing room. The light's were on, the drinks and snacks were half consumed, the room reeked of man, but he was not there. I didn't walk in but I could examine the room from the door thoroughly. Only the remnants and leftovers of Chris remained. I sighed with dissatisfaction as my expectations only became planned disappointment. I closed the door and rested my head against his name tag; It's cold and unwelcoming just like the door knob.

"Thank...god." I whisper.

Even though I didn't get to meet Chris, I was still secretly jubilant at the fact that he wasn't there. I let go of the door knob as I turned around to head in the other direction. Entering the actor's lounge, it was equally vacant of any actors or any humans. I guess Edward was right about one thing: that no one goes to the actor's lounge. It was a small and confined space about the size of a typical apartment, but so exotic that one would misinterpret it as a closet of a mansion. On one side was a mini bar with alcoholic beverages laid out amongst the glass shelves of the wall.

Dammit. No bartender.

I wasn't too disappointed since I could just pour the drinks myself. I mean how hard could it be to grab a cup and a bottle and pour?

I sat joyfully on the cushion of the couch as my lower body finally experienced some alleviation from this constricting dress and these dreadful heels. I kicked off the shoes that suffocated the blood in my feet and laid my head back against the neck rest to feel my hair brush against me. I open my clutch to acquire my phone for one last examination of the time.

"Seven ten."

That means I have twenty minutes until the commercials start, then another ten minutes because of the commercials, then another ten minutes due to the speech from the director and cast members, and then five minutes until the actual movie starts. In total, I have about forty-five to fifty minutes of rest until I actually have to wake up to meet up with Bella. Bella probably won't mind if I come late as long as I come in time for the movie.

As I my eyes shut in beautiful tranquility, I recited the plan once more to myself. After what I almost just went through, I think I deserve a break.

Hakuna Matata.

* * *

I awoke to the sound of chattering emerging from one of the dressing rooms. I open my eyes to catch a burning glimpse of the light bulb erupting in a light brightly above me. Groggy and discombobulated, I reached for my clutch to check the time.

"Eight fifteen? Are you fucking kidding me? I knew I should've set an alarm." I quietly scolded myself; slapping myself on the head on purpose. I shook my face and slapped my cheeks to force my brain to regain consciousness.

"Oh my gosh, Bella is gonna kill me." I remarked pushing my torso off the couch with all my might and rushing to put on my heels. Slipping the heels back on was like wrapping my feet in a thousand rubber bands. I battled with my heels for a while but eventually managed.

"Do I look okay?" I narrated verbally tossing and combing my hair with my fingers. I tilted my head to the side and continued to comb blindly. I picked up my phone off the couch to check my reflection but the dim lock screen didn't do me any justice. I proceeded to activate my camera to see if I could get a good glimpse at my physic.

"Stupid lighting."

I couldn't see anything in this dim light room with only one light stupidly placed right over the couch I was sleeping on. The only thing I could make out was my disfigured skin which was orange and yellow.

"Who the fuck puts only one light in a room?" I stated sarcastically angry.

Then I paused.

Wait a moment...the dressing room.

There's a mirror in the dressing room. I straighten my mermaid dress to give my feet as much ground coverage as I could acquire as I made my way toward the empty dressing room across from the actor's lounge. Each step felt like I was walking on spikes with a knot tied around my ankle. I could feel my Achilles heel weaken with each passing movement.

I grabbed the door knob and prepared to hoist my body into the room until I heard something odd.

A voice.

I glance at the name tag with a baffling expression.

No, not just one voice – two.

Someone was talking to another person in that room. My grip dropped in strength until my hand fell involuntarily from the knob and back to my side. My face grew closer and closer to the door until I could render a female and a male voice emitting from the interior of the once vacant room.

Should I still go in?

Should I just go find another room and fix my hair?

What should I do?

I bit my lip and looked around to notice that besides me, no one was in sight. The halls were empty. Everyone had gone to see the movie except for these two suspicious individuals who hid their identity in secrecy behind this thick wooden door and me. I guaranteed myself that there was no way I could get caught before I place my ear against the door. The wood was a lot less colder than the metallic items that decorated it.

Eavesdropping is a dangerous action.

A simple task that could put valuable information in your head that you were never intended to hear. I felt guilt and an overwhelming sensation of regret as I thought about my actions. Should I have just progress with my operation and head to the movie theater? Somewhere deep down below my scattered raging thoughts, there was a possibility that the man conversing behind those gates might be Chris.

If I go now I may never get another opportunity to fix this now.

I press my ear harder against the door and lifted my hair back behind my ear to retrieve the entire volume of the incoherent conversation. Soon words began to play themselves out while the dexterity of my listening abilities accommodated to the stillness of the environment. I could now make out the conversation.

"No, tell me why it's not working out. You can't just say it's over and not give me a reason. I need closure."

It was man. He was angry – no – infuriated.

"Chris, I already told you why." The female spoke with empathy.

"No that's not a good enough reason. I don't believe that bullshit."

"Watch your mouth Chris. Someone could hear us."

She sounded familiar. Could it be? Leanne?

"No one is going to hear anything, they're all watching the movie. Now tell me why. Don't walk away and try to ignore this like you did last time. Like there isn't anything wrong."

The voice seemed furiously irrational. Was this the same Chris I met from the cafe?

"I just don't believe in long distance relationships Chris. They just never seem to function abroad." Leanne spoke in the same quiet empathic manner.

"What do you mean they don't function abroad? Have you seen all the other actors that have dated and gotten married? Their relationships work out perfectly fine."

"Well, their relationship isn't our relationship. Chris, could we just leave it at this and go back to the theater?"

I heard footsteps approach the door as the door knob performed a terrifying creaking motion. My eyes shot down and my ear lifted off of the door knob. An alarm so quiet but yet so loud to my ears that I fell a few steps back. The door knob creaking was my last warning to go, to run, to escape and never look back. It was telling me I knew enough and if I knew anymore, I'd be in a dangerous position.

Did I know too much?

My eyes shot open but the door remained closed.

"No. Please don't walk away from me. Because if you walk away from me, you walk away from us Leanne."

His...his voice was breaking. I could hear the quivering of Chris' voice as shatters within his heart cried through his words. Chris was losing his rage as sorrowful anguish washed over him. He was beginning to get past the anger, he was moving to the next stage of acceptance.

"Chris, we've only dated for a couple months."

"Nine and a half months is not a couple months, Leanne. It's almost a year. We dated after a few weeks of filming."

"Let go Chris. It's over."

"No, it's not!"

An item of great strength slammed powerfully on the door sending me into a terrified state of back lash. I took a step back, then another. It was his hand that made that noise, a noise so terrifying that I flinched in fear. The sound of the strike struck so loud that it's rage echoed through the halls and through my ears. Dust and other debris shot off the door in unison from that unforgiving punch. Their conversation had grown so irrefutably powerful that my ear no longer needed to be pressed against the door to hear the conversation.

I stood a few feet carefully away from the flood gates; avoiding the raging waters that rushed on the other side.

"Leanne, I don't understand why it's so hard for you to tell me. Are you cheating? Are you sleeping with someone else? What's happening?"

"No no no. Chris I would never-"

"Then what? What can't you tell me?"

"Alright Chris. You deserve to know why. Why I'm doing this. Why I'm breaking up with you." Leanne paused. The knob jolted back to it's original position as Leanne dropped her hold on it. "Chris, I didn't want to say anything about it because I didn't want to hurt you."

"You've already hurt me."

"And I'm sorry that I've hurt you, but trust me when I say this can't continue."

She paused again, this time it was longer than the first.

"Even though I loathe long distance relationships, that's not the reason I'm ending this. You're just not the same person I fell in love with. I fell in love with a man I saw on set, with the man I saw on the screenplay, with the character you played in this movie, not you Chris. I'm sorry but when we made this movie...I loved...I loved Alexander Finley, not Chris Plum. I didn't mean for it to happen, you can't control someone's heart. I certainly couldn't control mine. There's no on or off button on this thing, because if there was, we wouldn't be having this break up. But we are...we are Chris."

Leanne's British accent broke as I heard her nose sniffling.

She's crying. She's crying a lot.

Chris didn't say anything; not a word.

"Christoper Nathaniel Plum. You know I loved you and you know that you'll always have a place in my heart, but I can't see us together for the next ten or twenty years. I don't know how else I can say I'm sorry so both of us can walk away from this without being damaged. I know you're hurt and I'm hurt too, but is there anyway you could please forgive me?"

He was silent.

"Chris say something! Look at me! I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry!" Leanne was yelling at this point.

Leanne broke him to a state that seemed impossible to repair.

"You know...the first I ever kissed a girl in real life and not on-screen was with you. I'm a sappy sucker for love and you know that. Call me naïve, but I believe in love...and I used to believe in you, now I don't know what to believe in."

They were silent. My breathing was so heavy that my lungs felt like I was lifting weights. I was getting red hot as heat was stored away in my face. I pulled myself behind the wall of the actors lounge and stared at the ceiling. I could feel their pain as if I was partaking in this emotional separation between two intimate lovers who were almost meant to be.

"I love you Leanne...but you didn't love me."

"Yes I did, I-"

"No, you didn't. You loved the fictionalization of me. Alexander." Chris cut her off.

"So every time we kissed, you were kissing a fictional character? Wow. I can't believe I didn't see this coming. No wonder all the sparks died for you after we finished filming the movie. You started to act strange and disinterested at everything we did and you'd stand me up for your friends. But the thing is, the sparks never died for me...until now."

I started crying. The emotion seeped out from the room completely unfiltered and tarnished my oxygen. Each time I took full breaths, I wasn't just breathing in air, I was breathing in their pain. My veins and arteries were clogged with a fraction of their disparity. I could feel the hurt rushing out from that room.

"Chris I'm-"

"No." He interrupted. "I already know. You're sorry. What else is there to say? You've got everything laid out on the table and so do I. There's no more cards left in our hands." He finished.

The door swung open.

"Bye Chris. I didn't want it to end like this. I'll see you in the theater." Leanne whispered just before she walked off.

Her heels clashed with the carpet floor until her footsteps faded into the silent hallway. I remained there motionless as drops of tears hit the carpet. I dashed to wipe my face before my make up began to smear. I attempted to choreograph my breathing to a slower pace so my heart would stop racing toward the finish line.

I knew too much. I should have just walked away when I had the chance and sit next to Bella in the movie theater and make fun of her as she flirted with Edward. This is not how this was suppose to go. This is not how today was suppose to go at all.

How could I even conceive of trying to resolve my issues when Chris's problems were much more imminent than mine. A woman, who he loved, came into his life and tore his open heart out from his chest to show him just before she accidentally dropped it in the trash. Chris Plum, another fallen victim as a casualty of love, in this Universal war of love. Chris had lost himself as soon as those doors open. I could understand him only to a certain degree.

I've ate the sweet fruit of love once before, but unlike me, Chris consumed the entire tree. The side effects of this fruit had a dramatic toll on his body; for now he had to live without it. Chris was now forced to live without a source of nourishment and bear the agony of deprivation until another seed could be planted in his heart. He sat there thinking in the company of his silence without moving a muscle.

I stood their despite the pain in my legs and just remained silent.

The mourning quietness Chris was enduring was so deafening that I could hear my heart beat. After a while I was unsure if Chris had left in a group of silent foot steps or if he was still in the dressing room with the door wide open with only himself to talk to.

My phone and clutch laid across the room on the couch but that was the least of my woes. How much time had passed since I checked my phone? Their conversation had seemed so long with more melodramatic interactions then I had ever wished for in a life time.

As the stillness intensified to a unmaintainable degree, I heard foot steps. They were distant and originating from Chris' room. Each step pausing for a few seconds before the next one took place. It was as if Chris has forgotten how to walk appropriately.

As his feet became louder It suddenly hit me.

He wasn't leaving to the movie, he was leaving to the actor's lounge.

"I need a fucking drink." Chris mumbled grumpily as I heard him come closer to the mini bar on the other side.

I can't talk to him. I just can't talk to him.

I knew to much and too look at him in the eyes and pretend that the world was at peace was impossible for his world – his universe – was torn a fray. There was no way I could continue this mission. I just need to find a way out of this. I had to avoid him at all cost. I had to abort this operation until a later time.

But how could I do any unobtrusive moves to pass him while in this limiting dress?

I only a had a few options and one of them was based on the hypothetical that once he turned the corner and looked away to get to the mini bar, I could sneak out behind his back and escape completely unrecognized.

Although this plan seemed great, it would only work if Chris turned in the opposite direction.

"Did someone forget their shit here?" Chris remarked.

Fuck my life.

I forgot my clutch and phone on the couch.

Chris stood their at the open entrance looking to see who the owner was. I pushed myself closer and closer into the frame of the corner as the dim light made it difficult for him to spot me. Now that I think about, the person who made this a room isn't so stupid after all. If he had added anymore lights I would've been in a lot of trouble. Chris stood at the entrance of the path way slightly angled towards the mini bar to allow me some blindness in his peripheral vision.

He couldn't see me. I'm safe. I shuffled my heels and dress along the flat black walls until I could see three quarters of his back. Chris didn't move as he still looked around the room to see the owner of the items.

Should I leave my stuff here and come back later?

Well what else could I do? Ask him really quick and leave with this secret forever imbedded in my skull? I needed to leave now.

Go Camilla, Go! Before he turns!

Too late.

**Author's note: It took forever to write this chapter because I didn't want you guys to be left with the mystery of chapter 8. Anyways, I consider this the final part to the Camilla Operation, but you guys might consider differently since I ended the chapter with a cliff hanger. Chapter 10 will be written within the next week so please be patient.**

**As always If you like this chapter and want more ASAP please leave a review, favorite, or a follow. If you love the novel so far and want to show your support, you know what to do.**


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